SG: 4 In Theory
by EA Thomas
Summary: It's a new team...just imagine all the things that can go wrong.
1. Default Chapter

Ladies and gentlemen...may I present my very first attempt to write my own Stargate team. This is the story of SG:4...hope you like this...

Chapter One

_This is insane_, Sergeant Tiller thought as he looked down at his watch for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. He had been pacing the same hallway for over an hour and his temper was wearing thin--if this mole didn't hurry up they were going to miss their plane.

He looked at his watch again and sighed, _two more minutes and I'm breaking down the door._

He turned down the hall and clasped his hands behind his back. This would never happen on a Marine Base. He wouldn't have to wait for a civilian that had no concept of time management or the schedule that he was on. And to add to his frustration, he was at Area 51—he hated this place.

_Too many guards securing too many little hallways with too many civilians acting like they were doing something important._

His heels connected with the tile floor and the resounding thud echoed down the hall. The empty hallway reminded him of an insane asylum, the walls painted off white with harsh brown trimming and the floors had the most irritating white tile speckled with hash marks. He was use to being around people, and noise—the silence was killing him not to mention the jumpsuit he had to change into upon arriving was driving him crazy.

When he first pulled up to the gate he had argued with the guard that he was on official business and he didn't have to change out of his uniform—but in the end, the armed guard won the argument and Tiller changed into the kaki jumpsuit before taking the elevator down to sub-level 17, _research and development_.

He looked back down at his watch and grunted. He could be on leave right now. He could be sitting on the edge of his grandfather's lake with a cold beer and his lucky fishing hat. He could be on vacation. Instead he was here. Why did he turn back? Why hadn't he just run for the front gate when he picked up his leave papers? Why did he agree to it? They could have gotten anyone to do it. Any one could have escorted her. Why was he trying to be the standup guy? This always happened to him. He always got stuck with the jobs no one else wanted. He always got roped into these situations, always got stuck with the—

His thoughts were interrupted when the door behind him beeped open and a young woman stumbled through the door. Also dressed in a kaki jump suit, she attempted to balance a large cardboard box in her arms while kicking the door open with her foot. Once clear of the door, she balanced the box on her knee and revealed her face her eyes snapped to the stern looking Marine in front of her and she paled.

"Oh, hello. You must be Sergeant Taylor." Still fumbling with the box, she tried to free up one hand to shake his. She held her hand out a moment but he just stared at her and kept his hands clasped behind him.

He took slow glance at her appearance and he spoke, "Sergeant _Tiller_." It was a statement, not a reply and it got her attention.

She didn't like these military types, always so uptight and formal—she just didn't get it.

Her eyes rolled on cue and she balanced the box in both hands and used the edge of the box to push up her glasses. "Sergeant Tiller, I'm Doctor Martin--I apologize for being late—" Without warning he turned sharply and began walking down the hall to the elevator.

A heart beat later and she was trying to run after him without dropping the box but she couldn't catch up to him but still insisted on explaining her tardiness, "I didn't mean to be so late. Frey accidentally activated the ring transporter while he was standing on the pad and I had to decode the cipher text to bring him back, and then the—" He turned on his heels in one smooth motion, stopped flush against the box and glared down at her. He didn't say anything and she continued with her explanation, "And then we finally got him back—turns out he wound up in _Giza_…that's going to take some explaining…" she let her words falls silent in the room and looked up at him while she tried to balance the box again.

Another pause and he leaned forward, took the box out of her arms and continued towards the elevator.

She couldn't believe what had just happened--aside from everything else, he was a gentleman. A smile parted her lips and she ran up behind him. "How late are we? The plane won't leave without us will it?" she asked as he stopped before the elevator doors and punched a code in the elevator keypad. The doors opened and the guard inside nodded toward Tiller as he stepped into the elevator. The guard waited for Martin to stand at his side before swiping his code key and pressing the button for the surface.

"So…" she said leaning back against the wall of the elevator as the other two men stared blankly at the wall. "Are you being transferred too?" No answer. "Don't feel like talking huh? It's okay, silence is _good_."

A few moments later and the doors dinged open. Tiller walked out first and Ms. Martin followed him. All he wanted to do was get back into his own uniform and drop off the annoying blonde—then he could go fishing.

Martin turned the dial on her locker and popped the lock open. Changing into her skirt and dress shirt, she pulled on her over coat and headed for the door. Martin's chest tightened at the thought of having to deal with that Marine again and she stopped in front of the mirror to catch a glace at her disheveled appearance. Normally she would have put on make up or brushed out her hair—but she was already running late so she pulled a rubber band from her coat pocket and tied her hair up in a pony tail.

In the opposite side of the hall from Martin, Tiller was back in his uniform and was waiting for Martin at the final guard station.

She emerged from the locker room and followed him through the glass hallway with two-way mirrors along the right side. At the end of the hall a guard waited to check the box before they were cleared for the surface.

Tiller held the box silently as the guard waived a wand shaped detector over the box. Martin looked on and couldn't help but offering an explanation, "They have to make sure I'm not sneaking out any alien technology."

Again, he ignored her. Once the guard cleared them, Tiller began walking for the door that led to the parking lot. Without a word, he tossed the box in the back of a black HUMMVEE and got into the front seat and held on to the roll bar as Tiller sped off down to the flight line.

"You aren't going to talk to me are you?" she asked, trying to talk over the wind.

Tiller swerved to the right and back again as he tried to dodge another vehicle, "We have 8 mics to get to the air strip—that is unless you're up for a nice long road trip to Colorado." His voice was stern, like her father's—she had made up her mind that she didn't like this Marine.

Pulling her skirt down to her knees, Martin tried to keep from falling out of the truck, "Roger—I'm talking too much…I do that when I'm nervous and…I have a tendency to—talk when…I'm nervous…" he wasn't listening to her anymore and she decided it might be better if she just remained quiet for the rest of this trip.

Chapter Two

Star Gate Command was buzzing with activity and General O'Neill wasn't immune to the over-load of meetings and briefings for the new inbound personnel. But it was days like this that Jack liked being a desk jockey, where he could do more than sit behind a desk with his hands tied while everyone else was off world having fun. Today—it was _his_ turn to have fun.

The office was quiet for the moment and Jack sat at his desk reading the four files he had been handed an hour ago--he couldn't help but smile at the fourth. He was assigning the new teams and these files were the last to get their team designator seals. He had been twirling the official stamp in his finger for the last few minutes and was just about ready to make it all official when there was a knock on his door.

Still holding the seal, Jack didn't look up from the files, "It's open!"

"Hello… _General_."

Jack recognized the voice and a sly grin grew on his face. The tone was one he was all too familiar with. The proper greeting was there but the tone was unique—as though his rank were a laughing matter.

"Frank," Jack said, as he stood and reached over the desk to shake the hand of the towering Marine Colonel before him.

"Brigadier O'Neill—I can't believe it." Colonel Bedard was quite possibly one of Jack O'Neill's oldest friends and he had the scars to prove it.

Jack smiled and nodded at the comment, "I think the same thing every day I come to work…" O'Neill said, taking his seat. He purposely leaned forward and rested his forearms on the files. "I got your team assignments, I was just about to—"

Frank sat in the chair and reached forward to stop Jack, "About _that_."

Jack squinted and sat back in his chair, "Problems already?"

Frank crossed his arms and sighed, "Felger." he didn't have to say anything else. The name brought a smile to O'Neill's face. He tried to hide it—but Frank knew better.

"He's a good man Frank."

Frank's mouth gaped open, "You can't be serious. Have you _met_ him?"

Jack tried not to laugh, but just remembering his brief history with Felger made him smile, "Yeah, actually he saved my team once when we were captured—"

"You got caught on purpose…Sir." He couldn't help but slip into their old ways with one another—but Frank had to hold his tongue this time.

"Ok…so we did…but" settled in the fact that he was going to win this one, Jack admitted to himself that Felger did have a talent for screwing things up.

Seeing the superior smirk on Jack's face, Frank knew he was going to have to pull out the big guns to get his way, "What's the score now?" He asked abruptly. The question caught Jack off guard and he sat back in his chair as he pretended to count in the air.  
"24…25…" he said just throwing out numbers.

Frank leaned forward and rested his hand on the desk again, "27/29—you _owe_ me…you owe me _two_."

"No-" O'Neill said trying to think again.

"Bahrain." Frank said, glaring at him.

"That doesn't count," he said waiving him off.

"Oh—just like _Algeria_ didn't count?"

"Ahh." He was trying to stall, but it wasn't going to happen. "That doesn't change the fact that I have no one to replace him—he's on the roster and he's due a team assignment."

"Jack, come on—this guy is going to get someone killed. Anybody…just not him." He pleaded.

Jack held up his hands, "I don't have anyone—" Another knock came at the door to save him, "Come in!" he called out.

The door cracked open and Walter walked in.

"Sorry to interrupt General, I have the in bound roster for you to sign. They'll be arriving this afternoon." Walter stood at the end of the desk and handed Jack a folder an inch thick.

Walter turned and walked out, leaving Jack and Frank in a stare down contest.

Frank eyed the folder and locked eyes with Jack, "First name on the top—that's all I'm asking."

"Frank—these are transfers from R&D, they aren't field trained—"

"I'll take anything…_anything_…"

Jack opened the file and looked at the first name on the inbound roster. His lips curled up into a devious grin, looked up at Frank and handed him the top sheet of paper.

Frank took the paper silently and sat back in his seat to read it over. The pain in his eyes was evident and he suddenly wished he had kept his mouth shut.

Jack was unable to suppress the laugh that was building up inside his chest and leaned into his palm to stifle the laugh, "There's your _replacement_."

Frank had been out maneuvered and he knew it. He should have known better than to play this game with Jack O'Neill—he always won. "You hate me don't you?" Frank stood and handed the paper back to Jack. With only his pointer finger extended—he saluted one of his oldest friends and dismissed himself.

The door shut behind him and Jack looked back down at the paper as he slipped it into the team roster for SG-4—he had some calls to make. Chapter Three

The plane landed at Fort Carson precisely at 1800 hours. Right on time—the one thing in Sergeant Tiller's day that had gone as planned. With any luck he'd be fishing by sun down.

The plane came to a ragged stop beside the flight line and Martin was ready to get off the plane—she hated flying. The pilot put the plane in gear and walked to open the door. Tiller, being the gentleman that his mother had molded him into from birth—picked up the box and carried it out to the waiting hum-vee as Martin trailed behind him. After tossing the box in the back he grabbed his sea bag from the coach and started for the hangar.

Martin stood by the Humvee and waived at Tiller even though he couldn't see her. For the second time that day, she grabbed the roll bar of a military truck and pulled herself into the passenger seat. The airman in the drivers seat turned the ignition as a second man handed him an envelope. He opened it and looked out the windshield for Sergeant Tiller who was quickly making his way to the hangar door. "Sergeant Tiller!" the airman called out.

Tiller didn't respond and the airman wasted no time in slamming on the gas and pulling the truck in front of Tiller—cutting him off abruptly. The airman jumped from the truck and ran to Tiller with the paper in hand, "Sergeant, I have orders to take you to the mountain." he said holding out a piece of paper to him.

"What's this?" Tiller asked, dropping his bag and reading the paper. No words could express his anger at that moment. But as a good Marine, Tiller held back any reaction and crumpled the paper in his fist as he picked up his bag and headed back to the humvee.

Martin watched him as he slung his bag into the back and climbed over the side into the back seat.

Turning in her seat, Martin smiled back at Tiller, "Tagging along?"

Tiller was silent as the airman started driving again. Martin turned back in her seat and thought maybe she should just stay quiet indefinitely.Chapter Four

Running behind, as usual, Jack was getting his papers together when he looked as his watch—_almost time_. He stood and downed the last of his coffee before he picked up the folder and headed for the briefing room.

Four out of the seven people he was expecting were in the room when Jack walked in.

Carter, Daniel, Frank and his new second in command Lieutenant Connelly, all stood when he walked in and he waived them off as he told them to sit back down.

Sitting in his chair, Jack reached for the cup of coffee that had been placed there by Walter a moment before, "They aren't here yet?" he asked looking around as if they were hiding behind someone.

Daniel looked over, "They're in the elevator," he said pushing up his glasses before continuing, "Should be here in about five minutes."

Jack nodded and set his attention to Frank. "Colonel Bedard, Lieutenant Connelly, you know each other--right?" he said, nodding between the two men as they answered the question.

"Yes, Sir, " Frank said setting his cup of coffee on the desk, "Connelly was with me in Cairo…"

Jack's eyebrows raised at the memory, "Ahhh, Cairo—the good ole days…" Leaning back in his chair, Jack smiled over at Frank. "Pretty lights…" he said, obviously hinting at a past mission that was among several unmentionable subjects in their past.

"Sir, did they get Sergeant Tiller in time?" Lt. Connelly asked, inadvertently butting in on an inside joke between the two men.

Jack looked over, annoyed as he scowled at the young man, "It's covered Connie…don't worry." Jack said, not noticing his own slip of the lieutenant's name. It did however catch the attention of Carter and Daniel who suddenly became interested in the rest of the room's activity.

The elevator was crawling down the shaft and Sergeant Tiller could barely restrain the urge to push the button a few more times—it always seemed to make elevators go faster. But he remained the statue he had been since meeting Martin.

Martin stood at Tiller's side, patiently waiting for the doors to open. This is what she had been looking forward to for the last two months—at last the job she _really_ wanted. A job where she could make a difference, even if it was just another hole she was going to work in—_this_ was Star Gate Command.

The doors dinged open and before Sergeant Tiller and Martin could take two steps into the hallway a guard greeted them and guided them to the sign in desk.

"I'm to escort you to the briefing room immediately," the guard said as he swiped his pass card and another set of elevator doors opened.

Martin stopped in the hall, "Uhm," Martin said lingering behind as Sergeant Tiller walked into the elevator—the guard was staring at her now. "I'm not supposed to go to the _briefing room_. I'm supposed to be in the R and D lab...I was told to report to a Doctor Felger," she said, stepping back from the elevator.

The guard walked out of the elevator and took her arm gently, "There has been a development Ms. Martin." He said ushering her to the elevator.

Taken a back by the guard's actions, she pulled out of his grasp and stepped back, "I don't understand—I'm not supposed to—"

He reached for her arm again. "All I know is what I am told Ms. Martin—and right now you are late for your in-bound briefing with General O'Neill." He guided her into the elevator and this time—she didn't resist him.

Standing beside Sergeant Tiller, who was now the only person she knew, Martin crossed her arms and looked up at him, "That piece of paper you got at the air strip—did it tell you about this?"

"Yep." No smile crossed his face, but Martin knew he was laughing in the inside.

"Well, thanks for the heads up—_Sergeant_."

The group in the briefing room had fallen into idle conversation when the door opened and a guard led Sergeant Tiller and Martin into the room. Sergeant Tiller came to a dead stop at the end of the table and snapped to attention—Martin stood beside him. Her arms crossed over her chest as she looked around and wondered what in the world was going on. The five people before her stood abruptly as the man at the head of the table stood and nodded to Sergeant Tiller—now she was scared.

"Sergeant Tiller reporting as ordered, SIR." There was that tone she hated—the submissive drone tone that every grunt spoke fluently.

The man at the end of the table nodded and smiled at the Sergeant, "At ease Sergeant," O'Neill said, sitting back down, "Take a seat."

Tiller walked over to the chair by Lieutenant and took a seat while Martin stood at the end of the table and raised her hand as though to ask for permission to speak. "Uhm…can someone tell me what's going on here? _Please_?"

Pulling a chair out, Tiller silently waived her over. Martin walked over and sat next to Tiller.

Jack ignored the young woman and began the introductions around the room. "So we're all clear—this is Colonel Carter, Commanding Officer of SG-1, Doctor Jackson, also on SG-1. Colonel Bedard and Lieutenant Connie are the CO and XO for SG-4…_your_ new assignment as of today Sergeant—and Martin, you have been transferred from research and development. You're being assigned to SG-4 as their field…archeologist…person."

Frank nodded to the Sergeant and Martin as a greeting—but Martin was still in the dark.

"Uhm...General…" Martin said, again trying to get a handle on the situation. "I, uhm…I don't understand—have I done something _wrong_?"

Suddenly confused, Jack's eyebrows scrunched together as he gave a sideways glance at Carter. "_Wrong_?" Looking back at the young woman, he leaned forward and tried not to laugh. "No—you just _got_ here."

"Then why the transfer?" she asked, still confused.

"This is a _promotion_ Ms.—Doctor Martin…it's not a _punishment_."

She decided to quit while she was a head and sat back in her chair as Tiller glared out the corner of his eye at her.

The briefing continued without any further interruptions. By the end, Martin was slightly more informed—at least she now knew that she was qualified for the job she had just been thrown into.

Jack dismissed everyone and left the new members of SG-4 to talk alone--Carter and Daniel were on his heels as he walked back to his office.

The three men before Martin towered over her as she looked them over. Colonel Bedard, a towering Marine with rugged features looked familiar but she couldn't place his face. The lieutenant was young but was still older than her and had a glint in his eyes that said he had seem more things in his life than most men his age. And of course, Sergeant Tiller, who was still being the silent statue she had traveled with all day. Her impression of him hadn't changed and she had a feeling that this was only the beginning of a miserable working relationship in which she would be the odd man out.

Colonel Bedard handed out files among his new team as he spoke, "We'll be gearing up for our first mission at 0700 tomorrow. Just a walk in the park gentlemen—" he said stopping short as he saw Martin look up at him, "and lady," he said nodding toward her. "Now Ms. Martin—I know you are new at this. Just do your job and we'll take care of everything else. Sergeant Tiller, you're familiar with the base—correct?"

"Yes Sir," he replied, feeling another _request_ coming.

"I'll need you to take Ms. Martin and get her geared up. After that, rest up--we'll meet in the gate room tomorrow morning at 0645, make sure her quarters are locked on as well."

"Yes Sir—I'll get her locked on."

Colonel Bedard and Lt. Connelly made a B-line for the door and left Martin and Tiller in the briefing room. Martin hesitated for a moment and thought she might be better off running down the hall as fast as she could—but Tiller's firm grasp on her shoulder pulled her from her dream and into reality where he was already in action.

"You awake?" He asked, shaking her shoulder until she looked at him.

"Yeah," she replied, clearly dazed by the last few minutes.

"Come on, let's get you ready," he was out in the hall before she could say anything and once again Martin was running after him.

Chapter Six 

It was late, and all Jack wanted to do was go home and order Chinese food—but alas, duty was calling…

A disgruntled Colonel Bedard sat across from Jack as he broke the news to him. "I don't want to send you out there just yet Frank-" Jack said, now comfortable in his civilian clothes.

Frank leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "I know she isn't field trained—but you know just as well as I do that instant submersion is better than any class room."

O'Neill sighed, "_Alright_, but I'm sending you to the outpost first—Carter, Daniel and Teal'c will be out there with SG-12."

Frank shook his head, "_General_, we're scheduled for P3X-9842—I think backing down will only show a lack of faith in my team. Let us go on this mission—it's a three hour tour, walk around and look at the trees—"

Jack leaned forward and met Frank's glare, "You do know what happened the last time someone said it was just a _three hour tour_?"

"Sir—"

"It was a good show"

"Sir—with all due respect—"

"Frank--"

"Sir, you know I'm right."

Jack sighed and leaned back in his chair, _Had this guy taken lessons from Carter?_ He tried to think of a reason—any reason to make his point, but there was nothing and Jack knew he had been beaten, "Fine—go to P3X…whatever…just don't call me crying when something goes wrong."

_Victory_, Frank thought, "Thank you Sir." He was satisfied now. He got his team and his mission. All was set. The rest would come in its own time.

Frank stood and Jack dismissed him with the wave of his hand. With Frank now gone, Jack crossed his fingers as he shut the lights off and walked out into the hall. Closing the door to his office, he turned around and looked down both ends of the hall before choosing a direction. But it wasn't two seconds later when Daniel came running down the hall with a stack of papers in his hands, "Jack! You've got to see this!"

Jack stopped in the middle of the hall and dropped his bag at his feet as Daniel ran up behind him. _Crap_.

In the last four hours Martin had been hauled from one checkpoint to the next, and now Tiller had her loaded down with enough military equipment to take Panama. Their last stop was her room where she would be staying until her security clearance allowed her to live off base.

The room was small and along with her personal effects, Tiller had hauled in her gear and was trying to show her how to fix her backpack to her vest…

"It's easy, after you adjust the straps on the vest, just snap on the pack to the shoulder attachments—" Pausing for a moment, Tiller looked up as Martin stared down at him.

"Straps…attachment thingies…got it," with a slight salute Martin tried to smile, but Tiller's scowl discouraged any offerings of friendship.

"It's late," he said, standing abruptly and fastening the pack to the vest before letting it fall to the ground, "get some sleep—and don't be late tomorrow." He was out the door before she could say anything back. It annoyed her that he was good at that—usually she got the last word.

Tiller closed the door behind him and Martin slumped down onto the edge of the bed, _what am I doing here?_ Laying back into the mattress she stared up at the ceiling. She didn't want to believe what was happening to her but something inside told her to hold on a bit longer—things might get better. By the time dinner rolled around, Martin was starving and she felt as though she was sneaking around after curfew as she crept down the hall to the commissary.

The halls were quiet as she reached the entrance for the commissary, but the dinning room was buzzing with activity as she picked up a tray and made her way through the line. Making her selections along the line, tuna surprise over noodles, coffee and a piece of chocolate cake, Martin stopped short as she realized there were no empty tables and she was going to have to sit with a group of total strangers no matter where she sat.

She walked down the main isle of tables and looked from side to side, trying to find a spot to hide in when her salvation showed itself in the form of a rather large gentleman sitting by him self over a tray of fruit, vegetables and chicken.

Martin paused at the end of the table, "Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?"

The man looked up from his tray and smiled softly. "You may," the man said as he nodded politely.

"Thank you," she said sitting down at the edge of the table. Her eyes darted around the room and smiled at her surroundings. At first it had seemed intimidating but as she looked around at the people talking and eating she realized that this place wasn't that much different from Area-51 and that eased the tension in her stomach as she ate her dinner in peace and quiet. Momentarily forgetting that, in the morning, she would be not only be traveling to another world—she would be stepping out into the field for the very first time…


	2. Part Two

**Chapter Seven**

By midnight, the base was fast asleep—save for one Jack O'Neill who had only recently kicked Daniel Jackson out of his office. Daniel had been rambling on about something the MALP sent back from off world for the entire night. Jack finally had enough and told the young man to simply _get out_.

Closing up his office, Jack stifled a yawn and headed down the hall to the elevator. He was half asleep by the time he reached the elevator and had to hit the button twice before it lit up. He had just leaned against the wall when the doors dinged open and Carter came walking around the corner.

"Sir?" she asked.

Snapping into the waking world, Jack pushed away from the wall and turned his back on Carter, "NO! I don't want to hear it! I'm going home Carter!"

Sam smiled as she walked up behind him and held out a small duffle bag, "Uhm, Sir?"

Jack squinted through his eyelids and looked over his shoulder. Seeing the bag, he turned and sighed, "Where—"

"You left it in the briefing room…" Sam said through a soft chuckle.

Ignoring the smile on her face, Jack turned and took the bag while propping the elevator doors open with his foot. "Thanks Carter," Jack said, stepping into the elevator, "You uh, pulling an all-nighter?"

"Yes, Sir—Daniel and I…"

"Yes…all that meaning of life stuff. Well, have fun and try to get _some_ sleep—you two have an early flight out tomorrow," with a lazy salute, Jack stepped into the elevator.

Carter nodded and smiled as the doors closed, "Goodnight, Sir."

"Night Carter."

The elevator dinged as it made its ascent to the ground levels and Carter found herself looking upward as though she could see him through the metal and steel. The soft smile faded from her lips and her feet took over, carrying her down the hall and back to her office and back to work…

X X X

One floor above, the halls of the SGC echoed with the gentle hum of the air circulation system as Martin crept through the halls. She had returned to her room after dinner but ditched any hopes of sleep after two hours of reciting the periodic table and had taken to the halls in search of a cup of coffee…

In any other situation she would have been hopelessly lost by now but the small map of the base that she found in her room was legible enough for her to make her way through the halls.

However, the hall she was currently lost in couldn't be found on the map. At her wits end, Martin walked to the end where the corridor spilt into two sections—_this is hopeless._ She was just about to start knocking on doors when she heard footsteps behind her.

The footsteps stopped and she heard something that sounded like someone clearing their throat before he spoke, "Ms. Martin, what _are_ you doing here?"

Turning slowly, Martin faced the one person she had hoped to avoid for the rest of the night—but there he was _Sergeant Tiller_, standing two feet away in his Marine Corps issue sweat pants and t-shirt with a look on his face that—_what was that look_? But her eyes were drawn to his arms and shoulders bulking beneath the sheer green t-shirt he wore. Earlier that day his clothes had masked his chiseled features and now she had to shake her head and look down to the floor to keep from staring at the man.

Immediately self-conscious, Martin crossed her arms over her chest. "Sergeant Tiller—" she said, fighting the shakiness in her voice. "Did you need something?"

His hands clasped behind him. Tiller took two slow steps toward her and looked down at her attire. "I was going to ask you the same thing. Do you have any idea where you are?" He couldn't fight off the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. The sight before him was just too comical _not_ to react to it. That morning he saw nothing more than a twitchy, off balanced and extremely awkward scientist—well she was still all this but seeing her wear an over sized t-shirt with "Spock's My Homeboy" printed down the front with flannel pants and bright blue fuzzy slippers—not to mention the braids that made her look like Pippi Longstocking—was just _too much_.

Martin glared back and braced herself against the look in Tiller's eyes. "Of course I know where I am," she said, stepping backwards to distance herself from Tiller until she backed into the wall.

Tiller just stood there and watched her squirm. "Oh really?"

With her hands on the wall behind her, Martin looked for the best escape route and walked around Tiller to take off down the hall. But a few steps later, Martin stopped in her tracks as she realized that she was truly lost. Martin accepted defeat and began to walk back towards Tiller, "Alright—so I'm a _little_ lost." Stopping in front of him, she squinted through the florescent lights above as she came to yet another realization, "What are _you_ doing here? Are you following me?"

Without hesitation, Tiller pointed behind him to the double doors leading to the work out center. "Gym," crossing his arms once again, Tiller let the smile fade from his lips as his jaw set.

"Oh," she felt stupid now.

"Would you like an escort back to your room Ms. Martin?"

His timing was annoying—good, but still annoying. For a moment she thought it might be better just to walk around lost for the rest of the night than to have to spend another moment of her life entertaining this brute, "No—I would not," she said walking past him and down the hall that she knew led back to the elevator. After a few steps she stopped and turned back—he was still standing in the same spot watching her walk away. "One question," she asked, standing her ground. "Why is it that you _insist_ on calling me Ms. Martin?"

Tiller had to think a second here, why would this be a problem? "It's your name—isn't it?" he asked as he began to close the gap between them, stopping short of her fuzzy slippers.

Martin's eyes as she sighed, "Well gee, seeing as how I have all those nice shiny diplomas—you'd think that someone around here would call me, oh I don't know—DOCTOR Martin…but hey that's just me."

There was that smirk again, "I'm so sorry, _Doctor_ Martin—is that all?"

"Yes." She was walking down the hall again, then stopped and turned, "NO—actually it isn't." Stopping short of knocking him over she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him the best she could, "Did I _do_ something?"

Now in a stand off, Tiller crossed his arms over his chest and briefly brushed her arms as he looked down at her, "_Something_?"

"_Wrong_—have I done something _wrong_?" She was getting loud now, a little louder than she should be speaking this time of night in a hallway that echoed for miles in every direction, "Because ever since I got here I've been thrown around like a rag doll with out any consideration for the fact that I DON'T WANT ANY OF THIS!"

Still glaring down at her Tiller was confused, "Any of _this_?"

She all but stomped her foot, but kept her temper under wraps as she tried to fight off the urge to sucker punch him—even if he'd kill her for it, "Are you going to repeat the last two words I say _every time_ I ask you a question?"

"No."

She was mad now, he was just trying to get under her skin—and it was working.

Her fists clutched at her sides as Martin took a deep breath and forced a smile before mimicking an about face and stormed down the hall, "I hate the military—why am I even here?"

He was enjoying this, even if it was cruel and unusual punishment—he was getting a kick out of seeing Martin squirm. But through the twisted pleasure he was getting out of torturing her--his mother's voice came through and drowned out the Marine mentality he had grown accustomed to. _You're always so harsh—you need to stop and think about what you say…_ A knot formed in the pit of his stomach and Tiller knew he had gone too far. "Doctor Martin—" he said, calling after her as he jogged up behind her.

She stopped walking as Tiller touched her shoulder, but she refused to look at him and he had to walk around her to see her face.

Tiller stopped in front of her and propped his hands on his hips. Martin only looked up in exhaustion, "What?"

"Look—Doc…" Her eyes blinked at him and Tiller saw something in her eyes that reminded him of his little sister and for a fraction of a second he wanted to hug her—but that feeling was quickly replaced by his Marine mentality, "Look, this is a military installation--they aren't going to treat you like a baby here. You were assigned to this team to do a job—so just do it and forget about everything else."

"I don't need to have someone hold my hand." All she really needed was for someone to say they understood her predicament and her frustrations but she knew that wasn't going to happen here. Tears started to sting the corners of her eyes but Martin refused to let the Sergeant see her anywhere close to crying and walked around him and headed down the hall—the wrong way.

As soon as she turned, that knot returned to his stomach, "Hey Doc." He had gone too far and he knew it. He wasn't going to be able to force her into a mold like he had with countless wayward Marines. This was going to take a different approach all together—one he hadn't used before.

She stopped walking again and tilted her head to the side before turning around as he stopped short in front of her, "Yes, Sergeant Tiller?"

He didn't smile but his usual grimace softened into an indifferent gaze, "Want a cup of coffee?" It was a neutral question but it was all Martin had to hear to give her hope that maybe this wasn't going to be the nightmare she had thought it was going to be.

The commissary had closed hours ago, but the dinning area was still open for any late night passerby in search of coffee…

Tiller and Martin had each poured a cup and sat quietly at a table in the far corner. Neither had said a word and Martin had just gotten up to pour her self a third cup. They both wanted to talk. Tiller had things to apologize for and Martin had some explaining to do. Tiller was the first to break the silence. Setting down his coffee cup, he stared at a non-descript point on the table, "So…I've been in the Marine Corps for almost eight years now." It was a statement, not really meant to uncover anything shocking—but Ms. Martin took it as an explanation for his treatment of her.

Nodding at his understated explanation, Martin made her own confession, "I haven't seen daylight for the last six years." It was a statement of her own, equally straight forward in its meaning--Tiller took it as her explanation for her inability to adapt.

Nodding slowly, he sipped his coffee, "Where're you from?"

Not missing a beat in their exchange of information, Martin sipped her coffee and looked over the rim of her cup as she spoke, "Arlington. You?"

"North Carolina. Parents around?"

"My dad—but he ignores me to the point that it feels like he died with my mother. Yours?"

Tiller shook his head as the corner of his mouth turned up, "They're too stubborn to die." Tiller eased into his chair now, shifting his weight until he was slouching into the back of the chair. "So what is it that you _do_ exactly?"

Martin grinned, "You want a _list_?"

Tiller squinted at her and tried to picture her in uniform, _nah she could never be a Marine_, "That brilliant huh?"

Martin set down her cup and walked over to get the coffee pot from the stand, "No—that bored," she said, sitting back down and filling up her cup.

Setting the pot between them, Martin turned the handle toward Tiller as he spoke, "Bored?"

"When I was in the 7th grade my dad realized I was different. I had memorized my entire text book from my science class in the first week of school—that's where it started."

"Smart kid, eh?"

She smiled on the out side but a part of her twisted at the memory of her childhood—_if you only knew… _"My first college professor told me that the most dangerous thing in the world was brilliance mixed with boredom. Turns out I'm the perfect example."

"So you graduated college when you were…16?"

"Ah…14. I had my Masters in Archeology by the time I was 18, Doctorate in Linguistics by 20 and after that I just stayed at Yale. It seemed like a good place for someone like me."

The military had always been Tiller's home and he grimaced at the thought of someone actually wanting to live at a school. "How'd you end up at Area-51?"

This perked Martin up and she set her cup aside before beginning the tale, "I have this thing for codes and languages…anything that seems like it can't be figured out I pretty much jumped at. And, well—I got a-hold of an artifact from a dig I visited and translated the language—which turned out to be something that the think tanks at Area- 51 were working on. Anyway, long story short—my dad made his one gesture of fatherly interest in my existence and had me assigned to the research and development team there."

He was confused now, "I'm sorry—your dad? What's he got to do with it?"

Martin had laughed him off and picked up her coffee cup, but her hand stopped short of her lips when she saw the honesty in his eyes, "My dad—you don't know who he is?"

A blankness washed over Tiller as he tried to make some sort of logic out of her question, "Why would I know that?"

Martin set her cup down and gaped over at Tiller, "You _really_ don't know? **_Seriously_**?" She was smiling now, a broad smile that made Tiller wish he knew what the hell she was talking about.

"_Should_ I know?"

Martin thought a moment and smiled at the thought of working without her usual safety net. "Well, I guess not. It's just that—most people know," but after a quick rehash of the days events—everything suddenly made an odd sort of sense, "I think I like that you don't know."

This was making her way too happy to be anything good and Tiller suddenly got nervous, "Are you going to _tell_ me who he is?"

Looking upward, Martin pondered her decision and looked back at Tiller—then it dawned on her. She had never been in an environment like this…for once she wasn't going to be known as her father's daughter, "No, I'm not going to tell you just yet." Everything felt easier now, not so tight around her chest as it had felt since her arrival. This would be different—a good kind of different.

**Chapter Eight**

The next morning, Tiller was ready and waiting in the gate room by 0645, _if you weren't 15 minutes early—you were late._ He had made it to his room by 0300, after escorting Martin back to her room. He stopped at the door and simply stated, "Night Doc," before walking off.

He should have gone to sleep hours before, but in his entire military career he had never been able to sleep before a big mission. This being his first off world mission with his new team—there was no way Tiller was going to get a full nights sleep and so he hadn't thought twice about staying up late with Martin talking about…_nothing_.

It was a different story for Martin, who upon walking into the gate room, yawned before she could say good morning. Sleepy eyed and only one cup of coffee to calm her nervous stomach, Martin walked to Tiller's side and leaned again the ramp at the base of the gate.

"Hey Doc," Tiller said with a notable smile. He couldn't help but be distracted by the colossal Kevlar helmet on her head. After stifling a laugh in his hand he reached out and unhooked the chinstrap. "They only tell the new guys to wear these," he said taking it off her head and handing it to the armor tech as he approached with their weapons. "Hey Airman, can you take this?"

Martin felt like the butt-end of a long running joke on the new guys, would it ever end? "If we don't have to wear them then why do they give them out to the new people?" She asked as the armor tech strapped on her Zat holster than rested it on her thigh.

"So you stick out and we can tell who's knew and who knows what they're doing—but don't tell anyone I told you." He said taking the second Zat from the armor tech and strapping on the holster himself.

Fingering the top of her Zat, Martin looked down at the familiar weapon and began to repeat the procedure in her mind on how to dismantle it.

Tiller couldn't help but crack a joke, "You know how to fire that thing, _right_?"

Glaring over at him, Martin thought, _This is what it must be like to have an older brother_, "I've taken theses things apart and put them back together again, Sergeant."

Walking behind her, Tiller checked her pack straps and tugged at the left one to tighten it, "That doesn't mean you can shoot it without knocking yourself out."

"I'm not _that_ useless." She said as Colonel Bedard walked in with Lt. Connelly.

Stopping short of the ramp, Bedard waited for the armor tech to hand over their weapons, "Ten mics till depart—everyone geared up?" He asked, not really expecting a reply--He was use to only getting a reply if the answer was negative.

Martin turned, and replied in a tone far chipper than she had intended, "Yes Colonel—all ready here."

The Colonel didn't say anything, only looked over at the armor tech and took both weapons he held, handing one to Connelly, he then strapped his own weapon to the harness on his vest.

Up above, General O'Neill hovered over the microphone, ready to do his favorite part of his new job, "Alright SG-4, standard three hour tour—" O'Neill called out while glaring down at Bedard, "Check back in 45…and don't talk to strangers." He said wagging his finger at them like a mother hen.

With his pointer finger extended, Bedard offered a lazy salute, "Yes Sir," With a nod to Connelly, the two men headed for the ramp as the gate roared to life.

The inner circle began to turn and one by one the lights lit up.

Martin, still standing at the base of the ramp was well within the blast radius of the wormhole and just before the fluid burst exploded from the center of the gate, Tiller nonchalantly reached for Martin's pack and yanked her out of harm's way as though she were a small child about to step into the street.

His hold on her lifted Martin's feet from the ground only for a split second but it was enough to make Martin loose her balance and stumble to her feet beside Tiller who was calmly watching the event horizon settled to a shining puddle of water. She didn't have time to scream, and attempted to play off the whole scene as Colonel Bedard and Lieutenant Connelly walked around them and up the ramp.

Still standing at her side, Tiller adjusted his cover as he spoke, "You uh…don't want to get hit with that kawoosh thing," He said, walking up the ramp as Bedard and Connelly disappeared into the event horizon.

Taking his lead, again, Martin followed Tiller until he stopped short of the puddle, "Yes _I know_…I'm the scientist here." She said walking up to his side.

Tiller reached out and touched the puddle as though he were testing pool water as he spoke, "What ever you say Doc…" satisfied with the _temperature_, Tiller stepped into the puddle but just before his shoulder disappeared he reached out for Martin's arm and pulled her in behind him.

On the other side of the gate, Sergeant Tiller walked through casually with a firm grip on Doc's arm.

Martin got her footing quickly and Tiller let her arm loose as he started down the stone steps before them. Down the steps, Bedard and Connelly had started down a dirt path a few feet away.

Going into action, Tiller released his weapon and began a visual search of the area. Grass in every direction of the clearing that spread in a half-mile radius of the gate, beyond that a dense tree line begged to be explored.

Also keeping his eyes on the tree line, Bedard wasted no time in breaking up the team, "Sergeant Tiller, take Martin and give me a south west parameter of the tree line, Connelly, we'll take the north quad…keep on your radios people, I don't want to loose anyone on our first time out." His orders were less threatening than she had anticipated. But as ordered Martin started following Tiller as they walked around the Stargate and headed for the tree line…

X X X

Armed only with a Zat, Martin was trying to fight off the nervous twitch in her stomach---_I'm on another planet, holy cow…I'm on another planet!_ She flinched at every sound around her and whipped her head around to look at ever shadow as Tiller surveyed the area with military precision…once again, Martin felt like the but-end of a joke.

Tiller stopped ahead at the tree line and waited for her to catch up, "Okay, stay on my six and don't walk out of eye sight,"

She couldn't help but mock him as he walked into the trees and navigated the terrain as though he were starring in a Delta Force movie, "Roger that, I'm on your six." Her tone was playful at best but still—Tiller didn't react.

With the sunlight barely breaking through the dense canopy, Martin had stopped to adjust the settings on her camera. She only stopped a few seconds but it was long enough that when she looked back up, Tiller was nowhere in sight. Turning in a complete circle, Martin took deep breaths as her heart began to beat faster. "Sergeant Tiller?" she called out.

No answer came back.

Her heart was beating so loud Martin couldn't hear herself think, but managed to stuff her camera back in her pack as the trees around her seemed to grow taller and menacing. The darkness enveloped the small clearing she stood in and as the forest feel silent, Martin griped her Zat with a shaky grip before walking a head into the trees in search for Sergeant Tiller…

X X X

It had been 18 mics since the team had began to plot out the perimeter and Col. Bedard was beginning to like the feel of this particular planet.

Connelly was walking a parallel 20 feet to his right and seemed to be irked by something…

Reaching for his radio, Bedard pushed the alert button for Connelly, "Something wrong Lieutenant?" He asked, recognizing the irritated manner in which he was tromping through the knee-high grass.

Seconds later, Connelly came back over the radio. "No Sir, beautiful day isn't it?" Bedard could hear the annoyance in his voice clearly.

"We want it quiet Connelly. I promise next time I'll try to find a nice Jaffa occupied planet."

"Sounds good to me Sir."

"I want to head over to that south ridge line, looks like there could be some sort of river or creek that way," He said, motioning over to where the tree line parted and rose over a hill. As the two men moved their path to the direction of the hill, Bedard kept a steady eye on his surroundings and thought that just maybe--by the grace of god, they just might make it through their first mission with out any injuries.

But as he radio came to life on his shoulder and his consciousness chided him, _it's never THAT easy_, "Sir, this is Tiller, Martin got lost in the tree line Sir—I'm back stepping now to find her."

Sighing, Bedard reached for his radio, "I'm not even going to ask how she got lost, have you been able to reach her on the radio?"

"No Sir,"

Connelly had picked up on the transmission now and was trying not to smile at the thought of Martin being lost. A short glare from Bedard and his smile disappeared.

Waiving Connelly over to him, Bedard spoke again, "Alright—it might be nothing but I don't want to take any chances. I'm sending Lieutenant Connelly your way."

Pausing before him only for a moment, Connelly nodded to his Commanding Officer and took off for the tree line to meet Sergeant Tiller half way.

X X X

Walking deeper into the forest, Martin had managed to avoid three sink holes, an odd-looking rabbit type of animal and a worm like creature that she was certain was of a poisonous nature.

Picking a spot near a fallen tree, Martin n hooked her pack and dropped it beside her as she took out her canteen. "Well, this is going swell. Aside from being lost in the middle of nowhere on a planet a million miles from home, everything is just peachy..." her voice trailed off as she spotted another animal a few feet off in the underbrush. With her eyes on the animal, she reached into her bag and pulled out her camera.

The animal rustled through the low bushes and she could hear a chewing sound as she knelt down a few feet from the animal and lay down on the ground to get a better view. But just before she could take the picture, the animal ran right pass her and disappeared into the distance. Martin looked over her shoulder and back again but saw no reason for the animal's behavior until the small trees before her rustled as a much larger animal drew near…

In an instant, Martin was on her feet and scrambling behind the nearest tree—dropping her camera in the process. The rustling sounds came closer as she tried to keep from breathing to loud.

Tree limbs broke under the weight of the creature as it drew near and Martin's heart nearly jumped into her throat as she fumbled for her radio.

Pressing the button, Martin tried to whisper, "Hello? Is anyone there?" The radio was silent and Martin shook the small device in hopes of making it work.

The creature was closer now—only a few feet away and Martin smacked the radio but to no avail.

_Get it together!_ Her consciousness shouted, and her hand once again shakily found its way to the weapon on her hip. Sliding down to where the tree met the ground, Martin pulled the Zat from her side and activated the device. Taking a quick breath, she stepped out from the tree as a figure emerged from the trees—she didn't hesitate to fire. Martin didn't waste anytime in grabbing her pack and running in the opposite direction as she screamed for help.

X X X

A short distance away, Martin's blood curdling screams for help made Colonel Bedard snap into action and he was running in her direction before she emerged from the tree line, pack in hand running for her life. It took Bedard 3.4 seconds to reach the clearing to reach her.

Almost having to flag her down, Bedard yelled out to her, "Martin!"

Martin wasted no time in changing her trajectory and running right for his position, "Colonel! Help! In the woods! In the woods! It was huge! It was right behind me!" she screamed as her legs moved faster and faster until Colonel Bedard caught her by the vest.

Tightening his grip, Colonel Bedard reached for his radio with his free hand. "Sergeant Tiller—REPORT!" backing away from the tree line, Bedard aimed his weapon at the tree line as he held Martin behind him.

Having heard the screaming, Tiller came back over Bedard's radio within seconds, "Colonel—did I hear screaming?"

Still acting as a shield for Martin, Bedard steadied her as he yelled into his radio. "It's Martin—we're one mile north of the gate. Get here NOW."

Tiller's voice came back short and clear. "Roger—out."

Satisfied with their distance from the tree line, Bedard dropped his radio and set Martin down in the grass to calm her down. "Breath Martin, you just have to breath," Bedard said, reaching for his radio again, "Connelly—REPORT!" There was no answer. "CONNELLY! REPORT!" Silence was the only reply. With panic rising in his throat, Bedard yelled over and over into his radio until he saw Sergeant Tiller run out from the trees.

With a keen eye on the tree line behind Tiller, Bedard pulled Martin to her feet. "Connelly isn't answering his radio," he said, as Tiller came to a halt behind him.

"Sir, no sign of the Lieutenant on my way in," Tiller said, as he watched Martin stand behind Bedard as though he were her only defense from the evil of the world.

Without a word, Bedard turned to Martin and took her Zat. "Anything comes out of the woods that isn't us--" he said, shoving the Zat into her hand, "you shoot it, understood?"

Martin nodded slowly and mustered the strength to speak, "Yes, Colonel."

Resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment, Bedard nodded quickly and turned to Tiller. Pausing for a moment, Bedard palmed his rifle and clicked off the safety. "Let's go get em'," he said, breaking into a sprint with Tiller at his side.

X X X

Shaky fingers gripped an unfamiliar weapon as fear and doubt waged a war within Martin. Raw fear tore at her nerves as Martin dug her feet into the ground and fought against the voice screaming within her to run for the gate. Her free hand tightened into a fist and Martin forced her self to watch Colonel Bedard and Tiller as they ran for the trees. But as the two men stopped dead just short of the tree line, a knot formed in Martin's stomach, _this isn't happening…this can't be happening. _

_X X X _

Standing at the edge of the forest, Sergeant Tiller had to take a second look at the figure coming towards him and as it came into focus--he lowered his weapon and in one second it was all clear…_all of it_. "Uhm, Colonel…" Tiller said as a dazed Lt. Connelly stumbled toward them through the shadows of the trees.

Colonel Bedard lowered his weapon and covered his mouth as he tried not to laugh. It was obvious…very obvious what had happened.

Stumbling through the underbrush of the forest, Connelly rested against a tree as he looked over to Colonel Bedard and Tiller, "I'm going to _kill_ Doctor Martin."

Bedard tried not to smile as he looked over to Sergeant Tiller, "I think we found Martin's _creature_—head back to the gate and dial us home. And I uh—get Martin through the gate, I'll see to the Lieutenant."

"Yes, Sir." Tiller took no time in turning and running back for Martin.

X X X

As Tiller emerged from the trees, Martin raised her weapon at him and dropped it seconds later.

"Come on, let's get back to the gate," Tiller said, not stopping as he picked up her pack and handed it to her before pulling her arm after him as he headed for the gate.

"What happened? Did you find it?" she asked, strapping on her pack as they ran for the gate. "Do we have to call for reinforcements?"

Tiller didn't stop running. He was debating on whether or not to tell Doc who her creature turned out to be—maybe he would just wait until after they got back to Earth…

**Chapter Nine**

Back on Earth, Tiller had handed off Martin's weapon and taken her right to the infirmary—maybe she had fallen and hit her head. That would be her only excuse for shooting Lieutenant Connelly.

"She's fine Sergeant," Doctor Smith said, as he looked over her chart one last time, "Just make sure she takes it easy for the rest of the day."

Tiller glanced at Martin out the corner of his eye and looked back to the doctor, "Will do Doc." The doctor walked back to his office but Tiller kept his feet planted. How in the world was he going to smooth _this_ over?

X X X

With her gear stowed, Tiller escorted Martin back to her room.

"So, I'll come and get you for the debrief. It'll be a few hours so take a shower and get some sleep," Tiller said, once again, stopping at her door way as she walked in.

Doctor Martin nodded and through for a moment, something didn't seem right. "You know. I still don't understand how I got lost. I mean, you were there and then—" As she spoke a flash of guilt washed over Tiller and it caught her attention, "Oh my god." She said flatly as she walked back to the doorway.

She had closed the distance between them and Tiller stepped back into the hallway. "What?" He asked, innocently as he checked the hallway for passersby.

"You did it on purpose." It was an accusation, not a question.

"Did what on purpose?"

She had him now and suddenly everything was making an odd sort of sense as a fire began to burn in Martin's eyes as she stepped out into the hall and up to Sergeant Tiller. "I thought it was my fault, that I just screwed up again—but I didn't get lost did I? You _left_ me."

"Uh no—"

Scoffing in disgust, Martin looked down to the ground as she saw the entire scene before her. "Some stupid hazing antic cause I'm not military—right? I can't hack it so you screw me our first time off world. Try to get me kicked off the team?"

As Doctor Martin spoke her voice grew louder and louder. It only made Tiller nervous and he took her by the shoulders as he spoke, "That's not what happened." Tiller said, backing her into the room.

With all her strength, Martin shoved him away and moved to the corner of the room as if he were going to hurt her. Tiller froze and held up his hands before kicking the door shut behind him. "Then what _did_ happen!" She screamed.

"You shot the Lieutenant!" As soon as he said it, Tiller bit his tongue. He hadn't meant to say it like that, he wanted it to be funny, something she could laugh about later—god knows the whole command was already laughing about it.

"I _WHAT_?" Martin asked, barely able to speak over the lump in her throat.

Watching her, he thought she might cry for a moment. Then she fell silent. He knew he had to explain a bit more. "Alright look, the thing you thought was after you, it wasn't a monster. It was Lieutenant Connelly."

As soon as he said it, Martin's eyes shot open. "WHAT? HOW!"

"He was looking for you, after I lost you I called the Colonel and he sent him to help me find you—and you shot him."

"I…I…oh my god—I shot…oh my god, is he alright? I didn't kill him did I?"

"No, he's fine." Tiller said.

Martin sat on the side of her bed and stared at the pattern on the blanket. Again, things fell into place. "Oh my god. This is just the lowest thing you could do." She said, recharged in her accusation.

"What?" Tiller asked, as he back up toward the door again.

Shaking her head, Martin stood and crossed her arms. "You weren't going to tell me where you? You were just going to let me walk into the debrief not knowing what had happened—you were going to let them snowball me weren't you?"

Tiller had to shake his head to try and understand Martin's new point of view, but it still made no sense. "What? No."

"Yes you were," she said, picking up momentum as she reached around Tiller to open the door. "I can't believe I thought you were the nice one. All that crap in the commissary—acting like you wanted to be a friend."

Tiller was lost now. And before he new it Martin had shoved him out into the hall, who knew she was that strong? "Hey, Doc—" he said, reaching out for the door when she closed it enough that he could only see her face.

"Just leave," she said, closing the door and leaving Tiller standing in the middle of the hallway.

He stammered a moment and thought about storming into her room and setting things straight. But he knew that would only make things worse. Maybe she just needed to cool off. With a sigh, he turned and headed for his own room. But he had to smile at her behavior…_maybe she had guts after all_…

X X X

Sitting in General's O'Neill's office, Colonel Bedard felt like a Private all over again as he sat across from his Commanding Officer. But to his surprise, General O'Neill wasn't yelling. In fact, he was smiling…

"Look Frank—-bottom line, you messed up. And you are going to have to pay for it. I'm sending you to the out post first thing in the morning. Carter is already out there with Daniel—he can keep an eye on Doctor Martin."

"Yes Sir." He stood without a word and walked out. There was nothing to say that would help the situation—except time.


	3. Part 3

**Chapter 10**

Staring down at his plate, Sergeant Tiller had to laugh at how much had happened—before lunch. First mission off world, CHECK. Lose the civilian and almost lose the Lieutenant to friendly fire, CHECK. Insult the one person you're supposed to be looking after and make a rift in the team, CHECK. Eat lunch, CHECK.

It was almost comical…_almost_. At least the briefing had come and gone without incident and it didn't seem that anyone picked up on the fact that Doctor Martin had gone the entire briefing without speaking to him. Thank god Lieutenant Connelly wasn't at the briefing, _that was one prayer answered today…_

Leaning on his elbow, Tiller pushed his fries around to find one that looked appetizing as he remembered how the Lieutenant stumbled out from the woods. He almost laughed out loud at the memory but pushed it aside and ran over his mental checklist for the outpost. But as he picked the last fry that didn't appear to be burned, a familiar sound caught his attention and he looked up to see Colonel Bedard standing across from him.

"Sir?" he asked, swallowing the fry and attempting to stand when Colonel Bedard held his hand out to stop him.

"It's alright," Colonel Bedard said sitting across from him. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Of course not, Sir," Tiller said, sitting back down in his seat with perfect posture.

Bedard sighed. This wasn't going to be an easy request. "We need to talk."

Before another word was spoken, Tiller nodded. "Doctor Martin," Tiller said, keeping his voice low so that anyone nearby couldn't hear.

"The outpost," Bedard said folding his arms on the table. "I need you to…"

"Baby sit?"

Bedard shook his head. "No—I don't want her to get use to it. She has to learn. Just--make sure she doesn't _shoot_ anyone else," he said, pausing for Tiller to respond.

Tiller nodded. "Understood."

Bedard stood and pushed in his chair before walking away.

Tiller reached for his glass but set it down before taking a sip. He was going to have to smooth things over with Doctor Martin or things were only going to get worse. His fingers pulled away from the glass and he stared back down at his plate again. He knew what needed to be done, in fact it had been done for him early on in the Marine Corps—he just wasn't looking forward to it. It was going to take something that he didn't have…something he lacked…_understanding_.

It could be done, that much he knew. But whether or not it would work was another question. As he dumped his tray and headed for the door he saw the coffee pot in the corner and had an idea…

Moments later he was walking down the hall towards Doctor Martin's room with two cups of scalding hot coffee in his hands. Maybe it would be enough of an icebreaker. Maybe she wouldn't throw him out into the hall again.

Rounding the corner, Tiller dodged two technicians before stopping at her door. Looking down at his hands, as though a third would suddenly appear, Tiller looked from side to side trying to find a place to set one of the cups but settled for the floor.

He knocked twice but knocked again when there was no answer—still nothing. Remembering how easily Doc got lost Tiller sighed and looked at his watch—it was only 1530 she wouldn't be asleep yet. Determined to find her, he set down the second cup and opened the door. "Hey Doc?" he called out into the empty room. The lights were on but the room was clearly empty. He took a final look around the room and began to imagine the worst. Had she tried to skip out of the base? Surely if she tried to leave the guards would have asked for her clearance papers. Where in the world could she be? Anxiety was gripping him now. She was a civilian. She could have done anything if mad enough. He had to find her before she did something stupid and with an aggravated grunt, Tiller slammed the door before heading down the hall in search of Doctor Martin.

Thirty minutes later, Tiller was searching one of the last halls that Doctor Martin could be hiding in but something was telling him that she had left the base. He was trying not to think that—how in the world would he have explained that to Colonel Bedard or General O'Neill? He was just about to start yelling out her name. That's when he heard the voices coming from a nearby room…

Daniel sat at his desk as the soft light illuminated his face. "Well—I didn't shoot anyone, but I hold the record for getting the first SG team stranded off world. And I'll tell ya, it was rough until I figured out the seventh symbol—then they liked me." Daniel's voice was soft and warm as he spoke; clearly he knew the situation and was trying to help.

Doctor Martin wandered around his office looking at the various artifacts around the room. "Will it ever be easier?" she asked, picking up an artifact and setting it back down.

Hearing the fear in her voice, Daniel remembered his first days and just how he had butted heads with the military. "Everyone has their own way—you'll just have to get used to them just like they are going to have to get use to you."

Martin nodded at Daniel's advice and smile; she had heard it before. "Is Colonel Carter _used_ to you yet?" she asked looking over her shoulder. She waited for Daniel to respond and smiled as Daniel fumbled over his train of thought.

"Well, Colonel Carter is also Doctor Carter, she's an astrophysicist so we had some common ground right from the start—General O'Neill on the other hand…"

The tone in his voice caught her attention and Doctor Martin walked back over to the desk as she spoke. "You aren't friends?"

Another memory popped up and Daniel had to laugh. "Not at first," he said, drifting off for a moment. Remembering how everything started out made him nostalgic. "Let's just say it's taken me a while to break him in…"

Out in the hall Tiller listened intently as he walked closer to the door. He heard Doctor Martin laugh and he felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he realized that he should be the one having this conversation with her—not someone that wasn't on the team.

Martin's laugh turned into a yawn and Daniel walked over to a small stack of books at the end of the bookcase. "Here, when you have some free time you can read these-" he said, setting the stack of books in her arms. "…they might help."

Looking for a title on the blank covers, Martin squinted up at Daniel. "What are they?"

"Mission logs—and mishaps…" he said pushing up his glasses—almost blushing as he remembered the young man he once was.

Suddenly captivated with the information that would be within the pages, Martin wasn't even looking at Daniel anymore. "Oh, thank you," she said through another yawn.

"Well it's not Shakespeare but it'll give you an idea of what's to come."

Nodding again, Martin turned for the door. "I should get some rest, it's getting late and I have a big day tomorrow."

"I'll see you in the morning—" he said as she reached for the door knob. "And Doctor Martin?"

"Yes?" she asked, turning back as her hand rested on the door knob.

"I'm almost always here—if you need to talk."

For a split second, Martin felt at home in the dark office as she looked around. "You might learn to regret saying that in the future," she said, pulling the door open and stepping out into the hall.

Daniel watched as the door closed—there's my good deed for the day…

On the other side of the door, Tiller listened through the door. Through the crack he saw Doctor Martin walking towards him and in an instant he stepped back from the door and sprinted down the hall…

Doctor Martin walked out into the hall feeling lighter than she had an hour ago when the weight of the world was bearing down on her. The whole day had seemed to get worse with every moment that passed and all she could think about was running for the nearest escape hatch—it didn't matter where it led. But then Doctor Jackson had stopped by. He said he going for a walk, and as simple as that, she had made a friend. Someone she could talk to about all the silly little things that seemed to be so big and horrible.

The walk to back to her room was silent but as she turned the doorknob she noticed something that she knew hadn't been there when she left. Two cups of coffee sat by her doorway. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion as she set the books down in her room and came back for the cups. Picking them up, she examined them as though they were from a crime scene. But just as she tried to think of where there came from—it hit her and she knew who had left them. _But why would he leave them here?_ she asked herself. _It just doesn't make sense_—_yet_. Closing the door behind her, Doctor Martin began walking down the hall with the cups of coffee in her hands.

Without spilling a drop, she arrived at Sergeant Tiller's room and promptly kicked the door with her foot. _That would have to suffice for a knock_, she thought as she waited for the door to open. It was silent for a moment and then she heard footsteps approaching the door—and then it opened.

He looked worn out. The little mop of hair left on top of his head went in every direction imaginable and there was that look in his eyes again. The unmistakable, 'what the hell do you want' look. His eyes drifted down to her hands and his eyes scrunched as he saw the two cups of coffee. He tried to look away, but his eyes locked with Doctor Martin's as she glared at him.

"Were you looking for me?" she asked.

The question hit him square in the chest and he looked away. "Me? Looking for you? No—why?" he asked leaving the door open as he walked back into the room.

Taking the hint, Doctor Martin walked into the room and left the door open behind her. "See, I found these outside my room and it took me about a minute to realize that there was only one person on this base that could possibly know how I drink my coffee." Setting the cups on the dresser she leaned against the door jam—staying within a respectable distance of the door if anyone should walk by.

Hands on his hips, Tiller turned and feigned remembrance. "Oh—that, yeah I was looking for you earlier."

"I see. Was it important?"

"NO—just uh, we're scheduled for the out post at 0700 tomorrow."

"Oh, so it was work related?"

"Of course it was."

"Oh—ok I was just wondering because, normally when you bring a girl coffee…it's—you know…"

"Look—" he said, instantly defensive. "Don't read into it—"

"Hey—" she said cutting him off and walking away from the door. "Don't get all huffy with me just because I caught you snooping around my room."

"I was not snooping."

"Oh, right…you were going to come by and tell me about the mission—with two cups of coffee," she said turning back to the door, slamming it as she walked out in to the hall.

Tiller stood dumbfounded as he stared at the door. _How did THAT just happen? _

The shuttle for Patterson-Wright Air Field left at 0700. Along for the ride were Daniel Jackson and the members of SG-4. Doctor Martin made a point to sit next to Daniel and away from the members of her team. It was a small gesture but fully understood by Sergeant Tiller. And not totally unnoticed by Colonel Bedard.

Once at the airfield, the expedition group boarded a C-130 for the first leg of their endless journey out to the middle of Nowheresville, Antarctica. Doctor Martin had bundled up in more layers than she could move through as the pilot called back that they would soon be landing at their mid-point drop.

"Hold fast!" the pilot called out as the landing strip came within sight.

After a quick departure, the group boarded a CH-46 Helicopter for the last leg of their trip to Antarctica. The passenger sitting area was cramped at best, and with Daniel on her right side, Martin was right up against Tiller as he sat on her left. But the annoyance of having him at her side was a close second to the knot forming in her stomach as Lieutenant Connelly sat across from her, his knees meeting hers. She couldn't avoid eye contact without being obvious and she offered a half smile with a head nod as her greeting—to which he replied with a glare and looked out the window for the rest of the trip. _Time_…she repeated silently, _It's just going to take time_…

By that afternoon, Doctor Martin had cordoned herself off from the rest of the expedition and was quietly working away on uncovering yet another unknown area of the out post. But as her stomach rumbled she knew that she wouldn't be able to hide for much longer.

She tried to ignore it. Tried to tell herself that she could wait a little longer. Then everyone else wouldn't be crowding around the main area and she could get an MRE without running into anyone she didn't want to see.

Her stomach rumbled again and Doctor Martin stood abruptly from the icy ground and tossed her notebook into the top shelf of her tool case before heading down the path to the main room. The path led right into the main room and there was no way she could avoid saying hello to a few people as she made her way to the oversized crate with the MRE's. She wasted no time in grabbing the first one she could reach before walking back to the pathway and back to her seclusion.

Like a child stomping off to her room, Martin was pounding her boots into the ground so hard that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her. Almost mumbling under her breath as she entered the small cul-de-sac Martin let her frustrations flame to life as she fought to open the outer packaging of her MRE. Despite the "pull open" tab, the plastic was resisting her attempts at opening it. Everything came to a boiling point as she pulled one last time at the plastic. It didn't give and she threw the MRE bag across the cul-de-sac.

It was just too much. Everything was wrong and look where she was now, at the bottom of an ancient cavern trying to uncover an alien outpost. _What the hell am I doing here?_ She screamed inwardly as she brought her knees up to her chest and rested her head on her knees.

All was silent, and Doctor Martin could feel tears brimming at the corners of her eyes but she didn't know why. Just as she was about to give up and let the tears come, the silence around her was broken with footsteps coming down the path toward her. She didn't move but watched the entrance as Sergeant Tiller appeared.

He didn't say a word. Only stood in the entrance a moment before looking down to the floor where she had thrown her MRE. She watched him silently as he walked down from the path, but averted her eyes as he walked into the cul-de-sac. Still silent, Tiller picked up the MRE package and sat beside Doctor Martin. She still refused to look at him and stared straight a head.

Tiller sighed as he pulled his utility knife from his ankle sheath and cut the bag along the length of it. After a few second of fussing with the contents, he pulled out a package that had "chicken and salsa" written on the front. Turning slightly, he held the package between them so she could see his actions without making eye contact with him. "You have to squeeze the stuff to the bottom of the package first," he said, squeezing the contents to the bottom of the package. "Then you put it into the heater," he continued, pulling out the plastic heater pack and sliding the meal package inside. "Now the trick is to not put too much water in the heater pack," he said, taking his canteen and pouring a small amount of water in the package before folding over the top portion and laying it against the wall between them. "Let it set for about two minutes and it should be hot enough."

The room fell silent again and Doctor Martin could feel the tension crushing her chest but she still refused to speak to him. It wouldn't get her anywhere anyway—they would just end up fighting.

Tiller's foot started bouncing back and forth and he sighed. "I came looking for you," he said, looking around the small room as his words echoed into the corners. "But, you weren't there and I got worried—thought you might have left the base and gotten lost again." His voice faded and he folded his arms over he chest as he shifted on the ice. "I heard you talking with Doctor Jackson."

"You were spying on me." It was an accusation and he knew it.

Still looking anywhere but at her, Tiller continued to explain. "It's not what you think." Tiller said, trying to organize his thoughts but only getting more frustrated by the moment. He sighed, "Marines are very odd people. We ignore everything that has the possibility to disturb the chain of command—anything that could disrupt the cohesion of the unit we set it aside and focus on the mission, everything else is meaningless."

Martin's face instantly contorted as she gaped over at Tiller, "Okay…and that means what in English?"

Frustrated that he even had to explain this, Tiller tried to resist the urge to shake Martin by the shoulders. He knew he had to be calm; this was going to take finesse. "I should have been the one to talk to you—not Doctor Jackson." It was meant as an explanation, an apology even—but that's not how it was received.

Standing abruptly, Martin kicked the ice from her shoes. "I'm not some kid that you have to baby sit _Sergeant_," she attempted to storm off, but came crashing down on the ice as Tiller took hold of the back of her vest and pulled her down beside him.

Still holding firm to her vest, Tiller made sure she knew not to move as he spoke. "No, you aren't some kid—you are a member of my team and I should have treated you like a person and talked to you."

Martin tried to fight against his hold on her but gave up quickly and let her shoulder collide with his. Silence. She was still furious with him—she couldn't remember why she was so furious with him but she knew that she was right and she wasn't about to back down.

"I just wanted to say that—if you do need to talk, about anything—I'm here." His words still echoed in the chamber as he released his hold on her and got to his feet. He stood above her and looked down as he adjusted his gear on his back. "Give that another 20 seconds and it should be ready," he said, pointing to the heater package before disappearing into the passageway.

Martin watched him and leaned back against the ice wall behind her. _Well, that was something_…she thought as she looked down at the heater package and counted to 20.

**Chapter 11**

It had been two weeks since Doctor Martin was tossed into the icy caverns of Antarctica and forced to deal with her own shortcomings. Two weeks since Colonel Bedard had taken his team on their second mission and he was still counting the days until something went wrong. To his surprise, the bad news came in an ice storm that settled over the outpost--preventing any transports in or out.

Daniel took the opportunity to take Doctor Martin with him as he explored the outer catacombs. Sergeant Tiller was in tow for security as they made their way over the rocky terrain.

"The structure should be just a little farther down this way," Daniel said stepping over a small gap in the ice as Doctor Martin followed close behind. Sergeant Tiller kept close to her, watching her every step as he tried to anticipate the slightest off balance step she might make.

"You're hoping to find a ZPM here aren't you?" Doctor Martin asked, stepping over the small gap in the ice.

"Well, there were no EM spikes on the scanner but—one can hope," Daniel said, unable to mask the childish glee in his voice.

"You think they'll ever get back to Earth? I mean, if they had the resources to come back through the gate they would have done it by now—right?" Martin asked, bracing her hand along the wall as she walked.

"Well—I don't know, if it was me, I wouldn't come back… right away," Daniel said, grinning at the thought of being at Atlantis.

"Do you think the Goa'uld are out that far?"

"Oh, I don't know—but I bet they've met their share of bad guys," Daniel added, again smiling at the idea of what lay beyond the known universe.

"True, I guess the Pegasus galaxy would have its share of uber-villains," she said looking over her shoulder to see Tiller staring straight at her. Meeting his eyes caught her off guard for a moment and she tripped over the next gap in the ice—Tiller grabbed her before she could hit the wall and pulled her into his chest as best he could. Her back slammed into him and he fell against the wall with his arms wrapped around her shoulders.

Hearing the commotion, Daniel turned and saw their predicament. "Whoa, you alright?" Daniel asked, offering a hand to Martin to pull her off of Sergeant Tiller.

"Oh yeah…I landed on something soft and cushy," she said, taking Daniel's hand as she pushed away from Tiller with her free hand. She slipped on the ice again but before she could actually fall Tiller reached out and propped her up. This time she didn't say anything, only looked back over her shoulder at him and smiled warily before continuing down the path.

In the main alcove, Colonel Bedard was overseeing the security detail rotation until the next transport could get through. It had been a long day for everyone—but at least no one had been shot…_yet_.

"Hey Connelly!" Colonel Bedard yelled over to Lieutenant Connelly who was helping to carry in a crate of ammo. "You seen Tiller or Doctor Martin?"

"No Colonel, they're still in the outer catacombs with Doctor Jackson. They should be back with in the next few hours," he said setting down the crate and walking over to his commanding officer.

Looking back down at his roster, Bedard waited for Connelly to stand at his side before continuing. "All right. Make sure the working party takes a break soon—have they had chow yet?"

Connelly replied without even having to think about the answer. "Not yet Sir—I'll send them in shifts."

"Good to go. Just make sure they actually take a break—I admire their stamina but in this temperature the last thing we need is 20 frostbite cases."

"Will do, Sir," he said walking back down the catacomb.

Colonel Bedard took a quick look around at the activity around him and realized how much he was starting to agree with General O'Neill's insistence that they come here—_at least if anything did happen it would be easy to get in reinforcements_.

A half hour after Doctor Martin fell into Tiller's arms she could still feel the warmth from his arms around her shoulders where he had held her. She was trying to keep her thoughts away from where they wanted to go—the last thing she needed was an "in office romance." Besides, Tiller was not a good guy to get mixed up with. The second to last thing she needed was another emotionally closed off male to break her heart.

"Hey, there it is," Daniel called out as he stepped down from the path and over to peer into a small tunnel.

Stooping at the entrance, Doctor Martin leaned over and reached out beside her for the wall—only to grab hold of Tiller's hand. It caught her off guard and she looked over her shoulder at him as he nodded for her to climb down into the tunnel. A few awkward steps and some sliding later, she was in the larger room with Daniel and Tiller was soon at her side as they looked at the pillars.

"This is amazing—look at this detail," Daniel said rushing over to wipe the ice off the inscriptions as Doctor Martin and Tiller stood watching him. "Hey, Martin—come look at this, see what you make of it." He said waiving her over.

Glancing up at Tiller, Doctor Martin pulled out a small flashlight and walked over to Daniel, "What is it?" she asked leaning down at the pillar. "Oh my—" she said running her gloved fingers over the inscription as she shown the light with her free hand.

Clearing his throat, Tiller was trying to think of something to say if just to be included in the amazing conversation. "Is it…eh…meaning of life stuff?" Tiller asked as he leaned against an outcropping of ice. No sooner than he propped his elbow on the ledge, the walls of the catacomb began to vibrate, causing small chunks of ice to crash to the floor. "Uh, that doesn't sound good," he said moving back to the entrance.

Ignoring the warning in Tiller's voice, Daniel began to pull out his tools, "It's just the ice shifting. We should be fine," Daniel said as a faint groan echoed through the room followed by a more powerful tremor.

Tiller wasted no time in crossing the distance of the room and pulling Doctor Martin to her feet by the back of her vest, "Doctor Jackson—we really should leave this area," he said, glaring down at Doctor Martin as she pushed his hand away from her. She tried to kneel back down, but Tiller brought her back to her feet, "Don't fight with me," tightening his grip on her vest, Tiller stared her down until she gave in and gently pulled his fingers from her vest.

Daniel heard the commotion and felt like he should say something in her defense, even if it wasn't his place. "Really Sergeant, this happens all the time—" he said as a third tremor shook the room, bringing a shower of ice down on them. "Okay, maybe we should get out of here," he said walking over to the opening as Doctor Martin climbed in ahead of him only to come sliding back down and into Daniel's arms as another tremor shook the foundation. Daniel steadied her, "I'll go first and pull you up," he said bracing his feet inside the small tunnel as he climbed up to the path.

Martin watched and waited until Daniel stopped and reached out for her hand then climbed into the tunnel. Just as her feet slipped again, Tiller came up behind her and braced her feet, "Just grab his hand and let him pull you up," he shouted, as another more powerful tremor shook the room. Ice began to fall from the ceiling and the tunnel was quickly falling apart. A knot formed in Tiller's stomach and he slid out of the tunnel. The tunnel was falling around Doctor Martin and in an instant he grabbed her feet and pulled her free of the tunnel. The tunnel exploded and knocked Tiller off his feet. The room fell silent as the tremors settled. Tiller jumped into reaction mode and searched for Doctor Martin until he realized she was lying under his legs. "Doc?" He asked, standing to his feet as he rolled her over to her back. He knelt down by her and saw that she was conscious, but there was already a knot forming on her forehead where she had hit it on the ice, "Look at me Doc," Tiller said, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Hey! Stay awake!" He said, as he stood and pulled Martin to her feet. Her balance was off and she swayed before him.

Shaking her head, Martin stepped into Tiller and braced her hands on his arms, "I'm…ok…ok…" Martin said as her knees gave out. She crashed head first into Tiller's chest. He caught her around the waist just before her knees hit the ground and pulled her into a hug as he stood straight, her feet dangling above the ground. Holding her, Tiller searched the room for a place to lay her as the light posts around the room began to flicker. Tiller's mind raced with the possibilities but all he could think of was that the only way out had just fallen in on itself—damn those stupid engineers for making such an easy trap. The ice settled again where the tunnel had been and the last flickers of light beamed across the room, Tiller was standing in darkness…

He adjusted Doctor Martin in his arms and thought of what to do next when he heard another shelf of ice break free from above. In the second he had to react, all he could think to do was to push Martin away from the sound…and then everything fell silent once again.


	4. Part 4

**Chapter 12**

Eyes blinked and saw only darkness. Fingers reached and grabbed ice. Legs kicked and soon Daniel Jackson was pushing out from under the ice and snow that covered him from the cave in. "Martin? Sergeant Tiller!" he called out. There was no answer, only the echo of his voice down the passageway. Looking from side to side, Daniel tried to remember where the tunnel had been but the ice wall had been reshaped from the cave in and he felt the wall until his hand pushed in on a soft spot—_fresh ice from the cave in,_ _this had to be were the tunnel was_. Reaching back to his vest, Daniel pulled out a specimen bag and shoved it into the wall so that only the red seal stuck out. _A little bookmark_, he thought as another weaker tremor shook the passageway. As more ice fell around him, Daniel looked back and touched the wall, "I'll be back." he said softly, before turning and running down the passage way to the larger catacombs.

Running so fast that his chest was about it explode, Daniel didn't stop until he reached the red marker in the ice that signaled he would be close enough to use his radio. Sliding to a stop, Daniel leaned fell against the ice wall and pulled out his radio. "THIS IS DANIEL! THERE WAS A CAVE IN THE NORTHERN PASSAGE! SERGEANT TILLER AND DOCTOR MARTIN ARE TRAPPED! I NEED HELP!"

Glancing at his watch, Colonel Bedard marked off another hour without incident and silently thanked God for the break. Then his radio came to life and Daniel Jackson's voice screamed over the channel. As soon as the channel cleared, Bedard's eyes locked with Lieutenant Connelly's across the room. Both men nodded and sprang into action. "Alpha 6, 8 and 9 gear up! Let's go people!" Bedard called out as he slung a rescue pack over his shoulder and broke into a sprint for the tunnel to the northern passage. On his heels, Connelly and three Marine fire teams formed a rescue team.

All was silent as the rescue team ran through the passages. But as Bedard ran, he began to hear a strange noise. Then as he made the last turn the noise turned into a voice—Daniel Jackson's voice.

"Colonel! Over here!" Daniel yelled, as he stood by the bag he had marked the tunnel with.

"Jackson—what happened?" Bedard barked.

Waiting for the Colonel to stand at his side, Daniel began reporting in as though he were one of the Colonel's sergeants. "We just made it in when the tremors started—I got out, I was reaching for Martin to pull her out and the tunnel collapsed." Pausing for a moment Daniel saw a fire ignite in the Colonel eyes.

"SHE WAS IN THE TUNNEL?" Bedard yelled as Lt. Connelly came to a stop behind him.

Looking back to the Lieutenant, Daniel answered the question for them both. "I don't know—she might have cleared it at the last second—I just don't know." Bedard took a ragged breath as Daniel pointed at the wall. "This is where the tunnel was—this is where we need to dig."

"Alright, let's get started. DIXON! Get your team up here and dig me a tunnel!" Bedard yelled.

Daniel stood aside and caught the flash of fear in Colonel Bedard's eyes. Even he knew that they might not make it through.

Cold. Pain. Martin felt all of these before she even had a chance to open her eyes and even then it didn't do any good—all she could see was darkness. Moving slowly at first, she managed to get her legs working and propped herself up on her hands before standing slowly. _Okay…just stay calm…don't freak out…_she said softly. The shards of ice under her feet made balancing a process of shifting from one foot to the other but she managed to reach her flashlight without falling. With shaky hands, Martin held the flash light and tried to find the small on button but her bulky gloves and numb fingers refused to work and the flashlight quickly slipped from her hands. But instead of crashing to the floor as she had expected, it made a rather odd sound as it landed—it sounded more like someone GRUNTING!

"Oh my god! Sergeant Tiller?" she called out, as she pulled her gloves off and dropped to the floor to feel the ice around her. The sound didn't come again but her hand soon felt a fuzzy round object—Tiller's head. Moving her hands to his shoulders, Martin slid to his side and felt his face. "Sergeant Tiller—are you okay?" she asked, running her fingers down his neck to feel his pulse. "Oh come on, please wake up…_please_," she pleaded as she gently shook his shoulders. After a moment she gave up on trying to wake him up and reached out along the ice and felt for the flashlight. Finding it by her leg, she flipped the switch angled it at Tiller's face. Now she could see that from the chest down he was buried in solid ice. "Oh no…come wake up!" she yelled, shaking his shoulders harder.

"WHAT!" he screamed suddenly as he gasped for air.

Leaning over him, Martin brushed away the ice from his face. "Are you alright?"

Her touched almost aggravated him and he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down so he could see her face. "What the hell happened?" he asked as he suddenly realized he couldn't move his legs. Looking around Martin he saw the pile of ice on his chest and legs, "Oh that doesn't look good."

Sitting back up, Martin looked at the ice and winced, "Yeah, by the way…you're buried in ice."

Tiller glared up at her as he took the flash light and pointed it at the ice. "Gee, thanks for the update…I don't suppose you have a shovel handy?" he asked laying back down and looking up at her.

"Uhm, yeah actually I do," she said pulling out a small archeology tool that resembled a shovel, only it fit in the palm of her hand.

Tiller glared up at her again. "That's not funny Doc."

Tucking the shovel in her pocket, Martin looked around out into the shadows. "I wasn't trying to be funny," she said, looking back down at him. "So…any ideas for a great escape?" she asked, hoping that Sergeant Tiller's training had covered being trapped in an ice cave.

"Not at the moment, you?"

"Oh yeah, plenty," she said waiving off the question, "but they all involve a shovel and a stick of dynamite."

"No," Tiller said, pointing his finger at her. "No explosives, that would only make things worse," he said struggling to look up to where the tunnel had been. "Can you see the tunnel?"

Angling the flashlight to the wall, Martin squinted through the shadows, "No—it's completely gone but Doctor Jackson got through; he'll come back with help. I think we should just wait it out."

Tiller sighed, "If he got out."

"No, he cleared the tunnel,"

"What if the passage collapsed?"

"Can you be anymore pessimistic there Sergeant Tiller? Can't I just have my little delusions where we are going to be rescued before we freeze to death."

"Okay, you have your little rescue theory and I'll try to find a real way of getting us out of here." He tried to struggle and pull himself free but it was no use—the ice was solid and too heavy.

"Yeah, I'd like to see that," Martin said with a sigh as she sat back and held her head.

Angling the flash light at her, Tiller saw that something was wrong and reached out for her knee. "Hey…you alright? Did you get hurt?" he asked, trying to pull at her knee so she would look at him.

"I hit my head on something…in the tunnel…" she said, shaking her head slightly as though it would make the pain subside. As she looked at Tiller, she could tell he was concerned, even though he was the one half buried in ice—it was almost sweet…almost. "I'm fine," she said as Tiller glared up at her. "Really, let's concentrate on the one of us who is buried in ice. Then we can worry about my headache," she said as she started to pull at the loose bits of ice around him.

Tiller took a hold of her arm until she looked at him, "You tell me if it gets bad," he said.

Martin nodded. "I will."

Letting her arm go, Tiller saw that her radio was missing from her vest. "Where's your radio?"

"I lost it when you threw me," she said smiling.

"Well it was that or leave you in the tunnel," Tiller said, moving around as much as he could in search of his own radio.

"Oh, I'm not complaining—by all means throw me around anytime you feel like saving my life." She was trying to lighten the mood and it worked. Tiller actually smiled as he struggled under the ice.

"My radio is under me--I'm going to sit up as far as I can, see if you can reach it," he said, sitting up a few inches as Martin reached under him to pull out his radio. After struggling a moment she pulled his radio off his vest and held it in her hands. "Does it work?" he asked, watching as she flipped the switch.

Listening closely, Martin held it out to him. "Static."

Taking the radio, Tiller tried to take a decent breath before speaking. "This is Sergeant Tiller, Colonel Bedard are you there, Sir?" His voice echoed through the room as he spoke.

Then he waited…but nothing came back over the radio except static…

General O'Neill was headed for the elevator and was ready for a quiet night at home. The whole day had been nonstop insanity since he walked into his office that morning and all he wanted was a cold beer.

Letting his feet drag the last few steps to the elevator, he pushed the button for the elevator and waited—but as the doors opened the sound of quickly moving foot steps coming up from behind him told the General that he wasn't going to be having that quiet night at home after all.

"WHAT?" he asked before he even turned around and saw a very nervous Sergeant Harriman standing behind him.

"General—Sir…" he said trying to catch his breath.

"Spill it out Walter—it can't be that bad."

He nodded his head frantically and finally caught his breath. "SG-4…Doctor Martin and…Sergeant…. Tiller…cave in."

"CAVE IN?" he yelled as his eyes grew two sized larger. The weight of the world settled on his shoulders for the second time that day. He didn't wait for Sergeant Harriman to continue, he grabbed his sleeve and ran back to his office to dial up the Antarctica site.

The last two weeks ran through Colonel Bedard's mind as he watched the rescue teams digging into the ice. How he had _requested_ to switch Felger…_Anyone but Felger_…he had chosen her…without any field training he had brought her on his team. This was his fault… all of this was his fault. And very soon he knew that he was going to have a phone call coming in—one that he was not all sure that he wanted to answer.

The darkness seemed to hang around the small area that the flashlight illuminated. Doctor Martin had managed to move around and keep herself as warm as possible—but Tiller was not so lucky.

"Just keep walking around, you need to stay warm." Tiller said, letting his head rest on the ice.

"What about you? Are you alright?" she asked as she walked in place.

"I'll be fine, I just have to stay awake…keep me talking," he said.

"Keep you talking? What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything, just uh…"

Martin continued to pace, "Keep you talking, okay…so uh…why did you join the Marine Corps?" she asked, as though it were the most original question in the world.

"Oh come on—that's all you can think of! Don't be a cliché Doc."

"Well you think of something!"

Tiller thought for a moment and looked up at her again. "Why did you study archeology?"

Tilting her head, she glared at him. "Okay, now you're being a cliché," she said, pacing the room in a circle now.

"Sorry, I don't usually have to carry on conversations with Doctors…what do you brainy types normally talk about?"

Wrapping her arms around her, Martin stopped and look up into the darkness as she thought about the question—what did she normally talk about with people? "Uhm… dead languages, lost civilizations, how to build a better mouse trap…movies…"

"Movies!" he said, surprised that he actually found something they could talk about. "Talk about movies…" he said through another grunt. His chest was hurting now, not that he would tell her.

She heard the pain in his voice, no matter how hard he tried to cover it. "Is it bad?" she asked looking over to him.

Tiller shook his head, "Don't worry about it."

"You know something?" she said kneeing at his side again. "That tough Marine act is only going to work for so long," she said grinning down at him as she pulled at his vest.

He grabbed her hands again, and held them away from his vest. "It's not going to help anything to tell you that it hurts like hell every time I breathe." Another sharp pain ran through his chest and he gripped her hand as he tried not to let it show.

Settling beside him, Martin shifted her hands and turned her hand into his until she was holding his hand between hers. Tiller looked at their hands and then up at her face as she reached out and brushed the ice away from his hair. "It helps me."

As his heart pounded in his chest, General O'Neill sat at his desk staring at the red phone before him—waiting for it to ring.

Walter had brought him a fresh cup of coffee as he waited but that had only lasted the first twenty minutes…and now he was just plain nervous—he really didn't want to answer the phone…and then it started ringing…

He sat up right in his chair and picked up the receiver before it rang a second time.

"O'Neill…Yes sir…I'm expecting Colonel Bedard to report in any minute now Sir—no Sir, it's about 50 miles out of McMurdo. Yes Sir…it's been two hours since the cave in Sir—initial reports said she was in the tunnel but she could have cleared it in time—Yes Sir…I understand Sir…Yes Sir…" With that he hung up the phone and rested his forehead in his hand as Walter walked in the door.

"Sir?" he asked not all sure if he should announce himself just yet.

"What?" General O'Neill asked, without looking up.

"Sir—I've got a situation report in from Antarctica—"

"Tell me good news Walter," he said looking up slowly.

"They can't make radio contact with Sergeant Tiller or Doctor Martin. And the temperature is--"

"It's summer there right? So what are we talking temperature wise…20 below?"

"Yes, Sir--normally."

Jack took a mental step back as Walter's face turned grim. "Normally?"

"There's a storm, Sir. Three miles in diameter, it should reach the outpost within 8 hours."

General O'Neill took a rugged breath and sat back in his chair, "Walter…I really don't want to have to call the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and tell him that his daughter is dead."


	5. Part 5

**Chapter 13**

With her flashlight firmly tucked under her chin, Doctor Martin muddled through the few things she had found in her pack. A few tools that had been broken in the cave in, an MRE, one of the lighting rods she had snatched, and a heating blanket that would no doubt be put to the test in this climate.

Tiller sighed, and Martin looked over at him. Her watch was broken, but she figured it had been at least 20 minutes since the cave in. That meant Sergeant Tiller didn't have long before he would start having some very serious and permanent problems.

Trying to wriggle under the ice, Tiller called out. "Doc, hey, you need to keep moving around to keep warm." Tiller said as he realized, she wasn't even listening to him. Looking over at her, he saw that her attention was focused on a few items she had pulled into her lap. "What are you doing?"

She was still ignoring him and continued to move the items around in her lap. Then she paused and looked up at then back down as she picked up speed. Something had caught her eye and she was rapidly putting something together but Tiller couldn't tell what it was.

"Doc—what are you doing?"

"Nothing." She said as a loud click echoed through the room.

"Alright Doc—what are you doing?" He asked trying to sit up to look at her.'

Scrambling to her feet, Martin held out the thermal blanket that now had some type of device and wires connected to it. "I'm being brilliant," she said smiling as she walked over to his side and began to set up her newest invention.

40 feet above, the rescue team continued to dig through the ice but the newly dug tunnel was only six feet deep—they would have at least another five feet to go before they would reach the chamber.

Luckily, Colonel Bedard had been given a second option—a risky one, but an option nevertheless. And now he found himself staring cross0eyes at Lt. Colonel Carter as she tried to explain it to him. "Come again?" He said, mentally shaking his head as he tried to picture just what Tok'ra tunnel crystal looked like.

Carter almost smiled at the befuddled man before her, this wasn't the first time she had caused that expression to appear on a Colonel's face. "The Tok'ra use the crystals to build their underground passage ways. With one of them we should be able to create a tunnel through the ice with out another cave in."

"How long before they arrive?"

"The transport is a head of the storm, so they should be here in another two hours—as long as the storm doesn't pick up."

Bedard tightened his fingers around the edge of the container he was leaning against and tried not to say what he was thinking, "Will they be able to hold out that long?"

"There's no way to tell Sir."

"Alright, let me know when the transport touches down—I want this done the second you get those crystals in your hands." He nodded and turned back to the corridor.

Carter watched him leave, knowing full well the thoughts that were circling his mind. She knew that he blamed himself for this—and if things did get rough for Tiller and Martin that he would be held responsible.

Looking over to Teal'c she forced a smile but he saw the worry in her eyes. This was going to be a long night.

Back in the ice cave, Martin moved quickly and simply tossed Tillers arms out of the way as she moved around him.

"Okay, explain this to me again," he said trying to keep up with the new Doctor Martin he was seeing.

Moving about rapidly, Martin stuffed a long wire down into the ice as she spoke. "Wire. Wire connected to battery. Transfers heat. Wire gets hot—melts ice…I pull you free and you don't spend the rest of your life in a wheel chair," she spoke so rapidly that Tiller was still trying to catch up when she started up again. "Can you try to move your feet?"

"What?" he asked, as he caught up on her last words, "Oh, no I don't think so," he said as Martin continued to move around him.

"It's okay—just uh—don't…make any sudden movements…." She said stuffing the blanket under the edge of the ice where it met his chest.

"Are you always this uh, _nuts_ when you get brilliant?" Tiller asked, feeling more like he was in the way than being rescued.

Martin stopped and glared down at him, "Please don't make fun of me when I'm trying to save your life. It's rude." In a second she was back to work and ignoring him again.

Tiller backed off and decided to change the subject. "How hot is this thing going to get?" He asked as she made the wires spark and sat back from him.

"Hot enough," she said, a little too quickly for Tiller's taste.

Tiller rolled his eyes and decided to take another approach. "Ok, how fast will it work—whoa!" He yelled, as he felt the heat spreading through his thighs. "That was quick."

"Just stay still and let it work," she said, leaning over him as she pushed the blanket farther under the ice as it melted. "Okay, can you move yet?"

He struggled a moment and stopped. " I can't move—you're going to have to pull me out."

"Okay—uhmm…" standing over him, Martin locked her hands with Tillers and braced her feet. "Okay, I'm going to try and see if I can move you a little," she said pulling lightly to test her own strength. "Okay, that didn't work."

"This thing is getting really hot, Doc." Tiller said as he felt the heat reach his legs—which was a good thing at the same time, he had feeling in his legs.

"It's supposed to be hot—now hold on to me, I'm going to pull harder." She said bracing her feet again and pulling as hard as she could.

"I'm sliding a little, pull harder!" He yelled as she pulled even harder.

It felt as though her efforts were useless—and then all at once the ice melted just enough and Tiller came sliding out of the ice. The sudden slack sent Martin to the floor and Tiller was soon in her lap.

"Holy cow! It worked!" She screamed sitting up as she pulled at Tiller's arms until he was sitting up. "Can you move?"

"Uh—not yet." He said, trying to move his legs to no avail. "Uhm, lean me against the wall."

"Alright." She slid her body against the wall and pulled Tiller with her. At first he flinched at her arms as they wrapped around his chest from behind, but as Martin began to pull him back against the wall without any problem, Tiller couldn't help but feel proud of her. She was turning out to be the kind of person he would want to be stuck with in an ice cave.

In no time, Tiller was propped up against the wall and Doctor Martin was sitting at his side trying to catch her breath. "Are you hurt anywhere?" Tiller asked suddenly as he looked over at her.

Martin rubbed the back of her head, "I'll be okay," she said, reaching out for the blanket and pulling it over Tiller's legs. "I don't know how long the heat will last but hopefully it'll keep the blood flowing in your legs."

Tiller watched her as she wrapped the blanket around his legs then reached out and reached out for her wrist but caught her hand, "Hey…" he said as Martin looked down at his fingers moving slowly over hers as he held her hand, "thanks for saving my life." He said in a voice so soft it sounded like he was whispering, and the moment he said it he realized just how lame he had sounded.

Martin smiled and met Tiller's unflinching gaze, "You're welcome," she said, brushing a few flakes of ice from his face.

Tiller tried to look away, but he couldn't move—and she was so close. Something had changed. Something had happened between the fighting and childish silence treatments, something had…

Tiller blinked hard and tore his eyes away from the deep blue circles that had him entranced. Shame washed over him and all he could hear was his own voice screaming from within. _What are you thinking? _

Martin took the hint and let her fingers slip out of Tillers hand as she moved onto her next task and began to unzip Tiller's utility vest.

Fingers poked at Tiller's ribs and sent him jumping into the air. "What are you doing Doc!" He growled, as he grabbed at her hand and pulled it out from under his vest.

Martin continued and simply brushed off Tiller's firm grasp as she continued to pull at his shirt to look at his ribs. "I'm checking your ribs, does this hurt?" she asked, as Tiller gasped. "See, you might have a fracture."

"Well, then stop poking at them!" he said, grabbing her hand again. This time Martin gave in and sat back against the wall.

"I think you should lay back down," Martin said, folding her arms over her chest.

"I've been laying down enough already—sitting up is good." He said sleepily, as he tried to move his arm at his side but hit Martin's leg in the process. "Sorry, I can't really feel anything at the moment."

"It's okay," she said, leaning over as she zipped up his vest.

Taking a short gaze around the room, Tiller took in their predicament one more time and sighed. This might be a bit more of a challenge than he originally thought. Granted he had gotten out of the ice, with Martin's help, but they were still stuck in the cave. Tiller looked down at his feet and tried to wiggle his toes but they were still too cold and he couldn't tell if they were moving inside his boots. Giving up, he leaned back and let his head rest on a soft spot of ice, if there was such a thing. He let his eyes close for a few moments and felt a Martin move beside him. "You all right?" he asked as he looked over at her and realized that the color had faded from her face even more.

"Yeah, I'm great…" she said, rubbing the back of her head only to hit the sore spot and she winced.

"Let me check that out." Tiller said, pulling her around until he was looking at the base of her neck and brushing her hair out of the way. "Hmmm…that looks like it hurts like hell. Why didn't you say anything?"

Moving his fingers to her lower neck, Tiller began to rub her neck and she relaxed in his hands. "Because…I had to save your life before I could complain."

Tiller smiled, "Oh really?"

"Yeah, who would I complain to if you died?"

"True," Tiller agreed. "I tell you what. I'm not going to die anytime soon, so why don't you sleep for a little while? It'll make you feel better."

"No," she said, pulling forward away from him as she turned, "I need to keep an eye on you. If you get worse—"

"I'll be fine. Get some sleep."

Looking over her shoulder, Martin felt awkward as she thought about where to lie down.

"Here," Tiller said, pulling her back to lean against his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. "Just sleep for a little while and I'll wake you up." He said, as Martin turned and nuzzled her cheek into his chest. Looking down at her, Tiller brushed her hair away from her face and lay still as she turned into his side, letting her arm drape over his chest. It felt natural to have her laying this close--_completely normal_, he thought. So why was his heart racing?

Settling down, Martin whispered softly as she drifted off to sleep, "Just don't leave without me."

Letting his arm fall down her back, Tiller whispered back. "I won't, I promise."

He watched her sleep and couldn't help but smile. What was it that made him happy just by looking at her?

He thought he was still awake and watching her, but with the sudden jerk of his head, Tiller realized that he had nodded off. "Whoa no…." he said shaking his head as he picked up a hand full of ice and rubbed it over his face. "Wake up man…can't sleep yet…" he said blinking his eyes hard as the ice above him began to groan. Reaching for the flashlight, Tiller aimed it up at the ceiling but couldn't see anything. Then small slivers of ice began to fall and another, louder, groan echoed through the chamber-- The ice was shifting again. Shards of ice began to fall from the ceiling as another tremor shook the room and Tiller pulled Martin into his arms. She didn't wake, but Tiller hadn't noticed as he pulled Martin into the middle of the room just as a sheet of ice came crashing down to the floor behind them.

Tiller fell to the floor hard and Martin was still unconscious as he looked back at the ice as it crashed into the ground. His heart was racing now. The blood flowing through is body at a rate that his legs were instantly at his disposal and he jumped to his feet. Pulling Martin into his arms again, he pulled her over to the pillars with all his strength as the tremors settled and soon the room was quiet once again.

Laying Martin down, Tiller knelt over her and realized for the first time that she had yet to wake up. "Hey Doc, you awake?" Tiller said, as he pulled at Martin until she was lying back in his arms. "Oh no, come on…" he said running his fingers through her hair to feel for any injuries. His fingers quickly found the knot on the back of her head, and as he pulled out his hand from her hair, Tiller silently thanked God that there wasn't any blood. Next, Tiller slid his fingers over Martin's neck as he searched for a pulse—but after a few seconds of searching, Tiller's heart jumped into his throat as he realized—she had no pulse.

Tiller didn't panic. Instead, the only sound he heard was his drill instructor's voice screaming at him once again, "When the shit starts flying, no amount of freaking out will save you—it will only kill you quicker!" Following the strict procedure he had been taught so long ago, Tiller reached for his knife and cut off Martin's vest, coat and the layers of clothing until he could feel her ribs cage. Satisfied with the angle he had on her ribs, Tiller plunged his knife into the ice and leaned over to begin chest compressions. 15 thrusts and he moved to her mouth, holding her nose shut, he breathed into her mouth and waited to see her chest fall—no pulse.

15 more chest compressions and two more breathes—still nothing. He was getting worried now. _It shouldn't be this hard to get her back_. "COME ON DOC!" Tiller screamed as he breathed into her once again. With the second breath, Martin coughed hard and gasped as she flailed her arms around as though she were drowning. "It's all right!" Tiller yelled, holding her arms down as he pulled her up right. "Just breathe."

Breathing slower now, Martin leaned into his shoulder and let her heart slow down. "What…happened?" she whispered.

Tiller pulled her closer and lifted her as he sat against the wall, "Another quake—you hit your head…" he said feeling the back of her head again as he set her down on his legs. "You should be okay, it's not too bad."

"I'm tired…" Martin whispered as her eyes fluttered shut. In an instant, she fell forward and Tiller let her fall into his chest.

She passed out cold. Tiller felt awkward for a moment and pushed the stupid fear of intimacy out of his mind as he wrapped his arms around Doctor Martin for the third time that day…_how lucky can one guy get?_

**Chapter 14**

The treacherous winds whipped around the fuselage of the helicopter as the helicopter touched ground. Trying to see through the snow whipping around the window shield, Major Flora didn't see Colonel Carter until she ducked under the wind of the propellers and stopped at his door.

Kicking the door open, Major Flora pulled off his head set and turned around to watch Colonel Carter as she pulled open the side door and climbed into the helicopter. The small stainless steel case was tied off and Carter wasted no time in boarding the helicopter and releasing the case.

"Hey Colonel," He said, turning around in his seat.

Taking the case under her arm, Carter back out of the cabin and waved, "Thanks Major!" she said before running back to the make shift elevator that would take her down into the frozen catacombs…

Darkness surrounded the fading light of Tiller's flashlight as he droned out the next line to the only song that had been able to keep him awake…

"59 bottles of beer on the wall…59 bottles of beer…take one down, pass it around…58 bottles of beer on the wall…" taking a breath, Tiller prepared himself for the next line…

But his eyes quickly drifted down to the sleeping woman in his arms. She looked so peaceful, he couldn't help but look at her as she slept – had he ever held a woman like this?

Her face was half buried in his vest. Normally, the fabric would be course but somehow she had found it comfortable. Tiller smiled, _of course she would_, he thought as the light of his flash light dimmed and suddenly he was surrounded by complete darkness as the flashlight died.

Tiller's arms instinctively tightened around Doc and she stirred in his arms as he pulled her back against his chest. Her hair was tickled his chin now and he reached up with his hand to brush away the soft blonde hair only to get his fingers entangle in her hair, finding a small barrette as he tried to untangle his fingers. Freeing his fingers, he took the small object, felt for a pocket on his vest and tucked it in. _A souvenir…_

Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Tiller was drawn to the far wall as it began to glow with a blue light. _Okay, I'm dreaming now._ He thought as he looked at the light blue light form into a crystalline tunnel before him…

Colonel Carter ran through the catacombs as fast as her feet would carry her until she reached the tunnel where the rescue team worked to dig through the ice. "GANG WAY!" She yelled as she ran through the men standing in the passageway. Stopping only when she was at Colonel Bedard's side, she held out the crystal and for him to see, "This should only take a second," she said, placing the crystal in the ice. Backing away, Carter looked over to Daniel as he shrugged his shoulders at her. Is _that supposed to happen?_ A moment later and the ice gave way to the expanding Tok'ra crystal as it created a passage through the ice.

In seconds the ice formed a stable tunnel and Colonel Bedard walked into the tunnel first, his flashlight shining on the walls of the newly formed crystal walls. "Well I'll be damned," he said looking back. "Let's go," Bedard said, turning back to the pitch black tunnel before him as he lead the team into the cave.

A short distance down and Colonel Bedard jumped down to the ground. Shining his light around the moment he landed, Bedard spotted Tiller and Martin on the opposite side of the room and called back to the team, "I found them! Get the med team in here!" He called out as he climbed over the ice blocks and to Tiller's side. Tiller's eyes were barely open and Bedard bent down at his side, but Colonel Bedard could tell that he was conscious and lifted his chin. "Tiller? Come on son, talk to me," he said, laying his shoulder on Tiller's shoulder.

"Sir?" Tiller whispered.

"Yeah?" Bedard said, as Connelly stopped behind him.

"Doc…" he said as his voice trailed off. He was too weak now to speak, but Bedard understood him.

"She's alright," Bedard said as he watched Connelly kneel by Martin and take her pulse.

Connelly hesitated a moment, maybe his fingers were too cold. Rubbing them together, he met the worried eyes of Colonel Bedard and tried to find Martin's pulse again. This time his fingers felt the weak rhythm and a wave of relief washed over him. Bedard still watched him and Connelly nodded to his commanding officer that she was going to make it.

"See, she's fine," Bedard said as the medical team came up behind them. "They're gonna check you out—make sure nothing is broke." Bedard said, moving out of the way as the doctor's quickly assessed their patients.

"This one is good," the doctor said. "Get a stretcher!" he called as Connelly bent down at the doctor's side and scooped Doctor Martin up in his arms.

"We can't wait for a stretcher," he said, letting Martin's head rest on his shoulder he headed for the crystal tunnel. As he stepped into the tunnel, Connelly stopped Teal'c as he looked on. "Teal'c, they could use some muscle down there if you're up to it."

Teal'c nodded, "I am, Lieutenant Connelly," he replied.

Connelly nodded in return and watched as the silent warrior made his way over to Sergeant Tiller's side and effortlessly pulled him into his arms.

"Where is he to be taken?" Teal'c asked.

The doctor shook his head and pulled his medical bag over his shoulder, "the heli-pad Teal'c, there's a medical transport waiting—if we can beat the storm."

Teal'c nodded once again and was soon standing in the elevator with Lieutenant Connelly and Colonel Bedard as they traveled to the surface.

Colonel Bedard stood at Tiller's side and noticed he was looking around, "It's alright Tiller, we're taking you back to the main land—you made it this far…we'll do the rest."

With the little strength he had, Tiller reached for the Colonel's arm and pulled him close, "No sir. It wasn't me. " he said, taking another breath before speaking again.

"What are you talking about, Son?" Bedard asked, as he laid Tiller's arm across his chest.

Tiller pulled on the colonel's arm again to get his attention, "It was Doc…_she_ saved _me_."

Chapter 15

"Francis," The voice was solid and Doctor Martin recognized it before she opened her eyes. No other voice could be filled with so much disdain and indifference at the same time…

"Hello, General," she said, as her eyes slowly opened and settled on the chiseled features of her father, General Robert Martin.

The four-starred general towered over her bed, with his hands clasped behind his back and the same stone cold scowl on his face that Doctor Martin had grown up fearing. "How are you feeling?" His voice was cold and calculating, though the question showed a sign of concern, his tone made it crystal clear that he was annoyed just to be there.

"What are you doing here?" Martin asked, as she tried to sit up and was met with a crashing wave of dizziness.

His hand braced against her shoulder and pushed her back down to the mattress as his eyes narrowed. "I got a phone call a few days ago," he said, returning his hand behind his back. "I can't stay long. I'm seeing General O'Neill in a few minutes. I'll get this settled quickly and we can be done with this."

Grasping his arm, Martin pulled him back as he turned to walk away. She tried to sit up again but fell back to the mattress as her father pulled out of her grasp. "Handle what?" she asked, rubbing the sudden stabbing pain out of her temple.

"The paper work, I'll get it pushed through and you'll be out of here by the end of the day," he spoke as though his decision was the final word and turned for the door again, only to have Martin reach out and take a hold of his arm again.

"What are you talking about? I'm not _leaving_," she said, letting her head fall back into the pillow as he turned back with fire in his eyes…She was talking back to him for the first time in her life—this was unprecedented. Tears were brimming at the corners of her eyes as the pain tore through her eyes and the back of her head. Emotional roller coaster aside, Martin wasn't up to this kind of battle.

The General turned his eyes away from her as she wiped at her eyes, "Francis—control your self," he said, as though any sign of emotion were an embarrassment.

Martin dried her eyes and glared up at him. She had let him do this her entire life, but she wasn't a child any longer. "I don't need you to _handle_ anything—everything is just fine," she said, still rubbing at her temple.

Anger flared in the general's eyes as he turned back and looked down at her, "Don't you dare argue with me. You don't know what you are talking about," he said, taking a moment to control the anger in his voice, "Now I'm going to get this straightened out," he said, turning and walking out the door. _This conversation was over._

The door clicked shut behind her father and Martin pushed her head back into the pillow, letting the tears stream down her cheeks. _How could he do this? He had no right to come here and take charge like this—it's none of his business!_ Years of resentment flowed through her veins and added fuel to her already blazing temper. _This has to stop. _

Fighting through the onslaught of dizziness and nausea, Martin pulled her self to the edge of the bed and looked down at the hospital gown she wore. _I can't go anywhere in this… _Pushing away from the bed, she searched the drawers for her clothes but found nothing. Then she moved to the second bed and found a set of BDU's under the bed…

General O'Neill sat quietly at his desk and stared at the door that he had purposely closed just moments before. He smiled. This was going to be fun, much more fun than he had on a regular day and all he had to do was watch this play out…

Two harsh knocks rattled the door and General O'Neill smiled as he sat back in his chair, "Come in," he said, knowing full well that the man on the other side of the door would be put off just for the door being closed. On cue, General Robert Martin pushed the door open and walked into the room. "General Martin, Sir—" O'Neill said as General Martin's waved his hand, as though he could silence Jack O'Neill by doing so. But the younger General continued, as though the man before him were any other man on the street and not the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. "It's great to have you down for a visit, I think you are the only one of the Joint Chiefs that hasn't taken a tour of our humble establishment."

O'Neill's pause gave General Martin the second he needed to cut off his senseless ranting and he took it. "You know why I am here." General Martin barked as he clasped his hands behind his back once again.

O'Neill nodded, "Yes, Sir, I do."

"Then I don't see the need to waste any more time discussing the situation. There is only one solution here."

O'Neill raised his pointer finger and squinted as he tried to think of the best way to tell the General to take a hike, "Actually, General, there is one little hitch in your request."

"And what might that be?"

"Well, the thing is…" he said, as he saw Colonel Bedard walking into the room behind General Martin. "Ah, just the man I was waiting for," O'Neill said, motioning to Bedard as he walked around the General and up to the desk. "General Martin, Colonel Bedard. Colonel Bedard, General Martin." He said, glancing to Bedard as though to say, _here he is, have at him._

"I don't have time for this. Just get the paper work pushed through so this can be done."

Bedard feigned innocence and looked to O'Neill for an explanation.

"Well, Frank—this is Doc. Martin's father—"

"Oh, well in that case, I am the one you should be talking to, General. I'm Doc's commanding officer." The General fell silent and Bedard looked back to O'Neill.

"General Martin wants Doc taken off your team," O'Neill said, pointing the preverbal finger at the older man.

Bedard crossed his arms and eyed the General, "May I ask why, Sir?"

"That is no concern of yours." The General barked back.

"Sir, with all due respect, Doctor Martin is a member of my team and any requests for her transfer will be denied unless I am given a valid reason." Bedard said, as he stood his ground and waited for the General's next move.

"I am her _father_."

"Yes, Sir."

"That's the only answer you need," the General said as he turned and walked for the hallway.

Bedard adjusted his arms and shook his head, "I'm afraid it's not, Sir."

The General stopped and turned on his heels, "Excuse me?"

"Sir, if everyone's parents knew the danger they faced everyday by working here, they would no doubt have the reaction that you are having. But I wouldn't be able to recognize their requests…and I can't recognize yours."

Walking back into the room, the General all but walked right up to Bedard as he spoke. "I am not here as parent, I am here as the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and I am telling you to remove a weak link."

Bedard shucked the friendly demeanor and narrowed his eyes as he took a step closer to the general, "With all due respect, Sir, you are here as a parent. Because as the Vice Chairman, you have no authority over who is or who is not assigned to my team."

The general inched back and stared right into Bedard's eyes as O'Neill watched from behind his desk. "Don't tell me what I do and do not have control over, _Colonel_. You'll find out just how far my arm reaches."

Bedard refused to back down, "Sir, under the UCMJ you cannot _legally_ effect military regulations or assignments that would concern any persons related to you."

"She's not military."

"This is a joint command Sir. She's assigned to a military unit—she might as well be enlisted."

On the brink of loosing his temper now, the General eye's flared, "She has no business being here."

Bedard had been warned about this. O'Neill had told him over the phone that this is why he came here and as Martin's commanding officer, he was the only one who would be able to stand up to him. But now that he was actually seeing this man trying to over step his daughter's wishes, Bedard almost found his demeanor comical. But he held his ground as he let his upper lip curve up, "I happen to believe differently."

"She almost _killed_ your lieutenant—"

"An honest mistake."

"She is going to get someone killed!"

Bedard backed off voluntarily, and thought for a moment, "Actually, Sir, it was her efforts alone that saved Sergeant Tiller's life." Bedard watched the general carefully as his eyes flared again. He didn't say a word though and Bedard took the opportunity to take charge of the situation. "General, I understand where you are coming from. Honestly I do, if I had a daughter I wouldn't want her working in an environment like this either, but Martin is different, she's stronger than you think is and whether you believe it or not—she _belongs_ here."

**Chapter 16**

Leaning against the bed, Martin pulled on the uniform blouse and reached for the trousers. But balancing proved too much of a challenge at the moment and she slipped from the bed and crashed to the floor. Stopping for a moment, Martin stretched her feet out on the floor and pulled at the trousers until she could button them. The room was still spinning, but she was beyond giving up now and with two firm hands on the bedside, she pulled on the metal frame until she could stand straight.

Taking a moment, she leaned on the bed and took a deep breath. She was going to have to fight to stay here…that much she knew. But how in the world was she going to fight her father? _I can't beat him… _she thought as she pushed from the bed and headed for the hallway, _I jump off that bridge when I get there…_

The door to General O'Neill's office closed and he looked to his new hero, Colonel Frank Bedard. "You got guts, Frank."

Bedard ran a shaky hand through is hair, "It's been a while since I stood toe to toe with a 4-star, I forgot how much fun it was…"

O'Neill sat down in his chair and silently prayed that the general would realize that what had been said _needed _to be said…and hopefully he wouldn't press charges on _both_ of them. "Well, it's over now. Just pray that this doesn't come back to bite you in the ass."

Bedard dropped the smile and turned serious, "He needed to hear it, and he did, that's all that matters," he said, moving to the door as he looked back to O'Neill, "I'm going to check up on Doc., make sure she's not too ruffled by this."

"Make sure she actually stays in the infirmary, her type don't like to lay around much."

Bedard wrinkled his forehead, "Her _type_?"

"The annoying, pesky, Doctor types…"

Bedard nodded and headed out into the hall…

Patting the wall as she walked down the hall, Martin was getting her bearings back by the minute and her feet felt more solid with every step that she took. But as she made the turn for General O'Neill's office, Martin came face to face with her father as he stood in front of the elevator and suddenly the world began to spin once again.

Her jaw had dropped and she meant to speak. To tell him to get out of her life and go back to his own world…but she couldn't make a sound as she walked up to him.

He stood there, staring at her, half wondering what she was doing there and half wondering why she was wearing a Marine uniform with Tiller of the front of it. But he didn't say a word. Only stepped into the elevator as the doors opened and stared back at his daughter as the doors closed, "You're _their_ problem now."

Suddenly lucid, Martin's eyes stung with tears as they threatened to stream down her face again but she held them back as she braced her hand against the wall and took a deep breath.

Down the hall, Colonel Bedard watched from the corner. His hands tightened at his sides as he tried to imagine what could have been said to bring the young scientist to tears. He wanted to pummel the man, charges be damned. He had no right to do this. He watched her as she stepped back from the elevator and wiped at her eyes. He had to do something, get her mind off of this before it got to her too much. With a quick change in his direction, Bedard took a quick breath and jumped into action, "DOC-tor Martin!" he called out as he started down the hall towards Martin.

She turned at the sound of his voice and her eyes dried. "Sir," she said, with a shaky voice. Anyone could tell that she had been crying.

Bedard stopped at her side and reached out for her shoulder, "You feelin alright?" he asked, helping in her effort at masking her tears. "Shouldn't you be laying down like the Doctor told you to?" he asked, as she looked up at him and walked over to the wall. His hand fell back to his side and he watched her fight off the tears and dizziness as she leaned against the wall and sighed.

"Yes, Sir, I just—" she said, rubbing at her temple as Colonel Bedard stood in front of her.

Again, he reached for her shoulder and helped her stand from the wall. "Come on," he said, guiding her by the shoulder as he walked her down the hall back towards the infirmary. "You need to let yourself get better Martin, don't think just cause you got knocked in the head that I'm going to let you stay home…we've got work to do."

Martin smiled and took a step forward but her knees buckled in an instant and she arm reached out for the wall—but caught Colonel Bedard's arm instead.

With Martin suddenly in the crook of his arm, Bedard went with the motion and let his arm cradle her back as he steadied her. "Come on, let's get you back to the infirmary," he said, waiting for her to take the first step.

Martin froze as his hand gripped her side and pulled her into his arm. Unsure if she felt comfortable with his arm around her, she let her hand rest on his shoulder as she got her balance. "I guess I'm still a little dizzy," she said, trying to take a step only to have her legs buckle again.

Bedard caught her again and wasted no time in taking her in his arms before she passed out cold. Suddenly aware of how heavy the young woman was, he shifted her in his arms and let her head fall onto his shoulder. He had to smile, it was like he was back on the battle field with an injured man thrown over his shoulder…only this one happened to remind him of his daughter.

A short walk down the hall and Colonel Bedard gently kicked open the infirmary door and walked up behind the duty nurse. "Missing one?" he asked as the nurse turned and gaped at the young woman in his arms.

Rushing over, she yelled for the orderly in the next room, "Dobson! Come help!" she called out as the young airman rushed in and over to Colonel Bedard.

"I'll take her Colonel," the young man said.

Bedard stepped back, "It's alright airman—I got her, where's her bed?"

"Right over here, Sir." The nurse said as she stepped out of the way and moved to the opposite side of the bed as Colonel Bedard laid Martin on the mattress.

"She made her way down to the elevator. Passed out cold in my arms."

"I'll take her vitals Colonel, make sure everything is alright."

Bedard nodded, "Alright, just uh…you might need to—" he said as Martin's hand pulled on the bottom of his shirt.

"Colonel?" she whispered.

Realizing where the sound was coming from, Bedard leaned over and set Martin's hand on her chest, "Hey Doc. How ya feelin?"

"Colonel, don't…don't make me leave…"

Bedard looked up at the nurse as she wrinkled her forehead. He motioned for her to step away before he spoke again. "It's alright Martin. Just get some sleep—you aren't going anywhere."

Stepping back from the bed, Bedard looked down at the young woman and nodded silently as he agreed with himself, _she's one of us now…_

**Chapter 17**

Pulled from his dreams, Tiller woke to chill bumps on his arms and a cramp in his neck. But he silenced the wince of pain as he focused on the bed in front of him and the young Doctor asleep in it.

Making sure not to wake her, he slowly lifted his feet from the edge of the bed and set them on the floor as he leaned forward and looked over Doctor Martin. The color was returning to her face and lips but the cuts and the scrapes along her cheeks and color bone made her condition look worse than it really was…but that's why _he_ was here. He had been telling himself that he didn't need to stay here for the last two days…but he had yet to leave her side since Colonel Bedard told him that she had passed out in the hallway. He almost felt guilty for not being there when she first woke up but it had been out of his control. The Doctors ran every test on him when he got back to the SGC and two fractured ribs had kept him on his back until the doctor cleared him. And then he came here and sat her side, just waiting for her to wake…he owed her that much.

Tiller sighed and his stomach growled. He couldn't remember that last time he ate but he wasn't about to leave. He knew that the moment he did, she would wake up and with Colonel Bedard and Lieutenant Connelly off the base, she would wake up alone—and that just wasn't going to happen.

So with another sigh, Tiller folded his arms over the bandages on his ribs and leaned back in the chair. _Sleeping is always good_, he thought. _Catch up while you can because when you least expect it—you'll be stuck staying awake for a week straight_.

Tiller's eyes slowly slipped shut as Martin's breathing rhythm played like music to his ears. He had memorized the slow and gentle rhythm and now he flinched at the slightest variation and just as his body began to relax into the chair—the beat changed.

Tiller sat from the back of his chair and ignored the pain searing through is chest as he leaned over the edge of the bed as Martin's eyes slowly opened.

At first, she looked around the room and then focused on the man standing over her. "Tiller?" She asked, speaking just above a whisper.

Tiller couldn't help but smile at the pathetic look on her face. "Yeah, it's me. How ya feeling sleepy head?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"I uh…are we home?" she asked, as she tried to see past the shadows that surrounded her.

"Yeah, we're at the SGC," Tiller said softly as he reassured her that she was safe, "You don't remember walking around before, do you?"

Martin tried to remember past the fog that clouded her memory but it was too thick and only fragments came through. "Uh…everything is a bit foggy. Colonel Bedard was here?" she asked as Tiller nodded.

"Yeah…he was here."

In an instant, Martin's face drooped as she remembered the other visitor she had. "Oh God—my father, is he still here?" she asked, reaching for his arm as though he could hide her.

Tiller covered her shaky hand with his warm steady fingers and pulled her hand from his and held her hand. "He's long gone."

Still nervous, Martin tried to remember everything all at once, but still could only remember fragments. "Transferred," she said, shaking her head, "I'm not being transferred am I?"

Tiller shook his head, "No, in fact, our next mission in next week. So you gotta get back on your feet."

Martin smiled and let her fingers slip from Tiller's as she tried to sit up in the bed. Tiller steadied her and held her feet as she pulled her knees up to her chest.

"I brought some of your things." He said, pulling a brown bag from under the bed and setting it in front of her. "I figured you'd want to change."

Martin smiled and felt her shirt, realizing for the first time that it didn't feel familiar. "Am I wearing you clothes?" she asked, pulling up the name tab that said _Tiller_.

Tiller laughed, "Yeah, I think you are."

"And do we know how that happened?"

"Not really." Martin smiled and didn't even want to think about how she got into his clothes. "I tell you what," Tiller said, trying to pick up the momentum of the moment. "Change your clothes, and I'll hunt down some coffee." He said, standing from the bed.

"Sounds like a plan," she said, watching as Tiller walked for the door. Pausing a moment, she called back out to him. "Hey Tiller?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning on his heel.

"I didn't wake up alone…thanks." She said, as a soft smile creased her lips.

Tiller smiled back, "That's what I'm here for."

She watched him leave and sat back against the back of the bed as she looked into the bag of clothes he had brought her. Pulling out the first piece of fabric she felt, Martin sat back and unfolded the blue shirt and smiled at the message written on the front that read, _Spock is my homeboy_…


End file.
